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Univ.®f  III. 

51 

3*763 


Library 


THE  CHANGED  CROSS, 

AND  OTHER 

RELIGIOUS  POEMS. 


NEW-YORK : 

RANDOLPH,  6 8 3 BROADWAY. 

1862. 





The  great  favor  which  the  following  Se- 
lections have  met  in  the  form  of  “ leaflets 
for  Letters has  induced  the  Publisher  to 
issue  them  in  a volume . They  are  still  pub- 

lished on  separate  sheets . 

New -Yorlc,  November,  1861. 


THE  CHANGED  CROSS 


• «« 

It  was  a time  of  sadness,  and  my  heart, 

Although  it  knew  and  loved  the  better  part, 

Felt  wearied  with  the  conflict  and  the  strife, 

And  all  the  needful  discipline  of  life. 

And  while  I thought  on  these  as  given  to  me— 
My  trial  tests  of  faith  and  love  to  be — 

It  seemed  as  if  I never  could  be  sure 
That  faithful  to  the  end  I should  endure. 

And  thus  no  longer  trusting  to  His  might, 

Who  says,  “we  walk  by  faith,  and  not  by  sight,” 
Doubting,  and  almost  yielding  to  despair, 

The  thought  arose — My  cross  I can  not  bear 

Far  heavier  its  weight  must  surely  be 
Than  those  of  others  which  I daily  see ; 

Oh ! if  I might  another  burden  choose, 

Methinks  I should  not  fear  my  crown  to  lose. 

A solemn  silence  reigned  on  all  around — 

E’en  Nature’s  voices  uttered  not  a sound ; 

The  evening  shadows  seemed  of  peace  to  tell, 
And  sleep  upon  my  weary  spirit  fell. 

A moment’s  pause,  and  then  a heavenly  light 
Beamed  full  upon  my  wondering,  raptured  sight ; 
Angels  on  silvery  wings  seemed  every  where, 

And  angels’  music  thrilled  the  balmy  air. 

Then  One,  more  fair  than  all  the  rest  to  see — 
One  to  whom  all  the  others  bowed  the  knee — 
Came  gently  to  me  as  I trembling  lay, 

And,  “ Follow  me,”  He  said,  “ I am  the  way.” 

5 


THE  CHANGED  CROSS. 


Then  speaking  thus,  He  led  me  far  above : 

And  there,  beneath  a canopy  of  love, 

Crosses  of  divers  shape  and  size  were  seen, 

Larger  and  smaller  than  my  own  had  been. 

And  one  there  was  most  beauteous  to  behold— 

A little  one,  with  jewels  set  in  gold ; 

Ah  I this,  methought,  I can  with  comfort  wear, 
For  it  will  be  an  easy  one  to  bear. 

And  so  the  little  cross  I quickly  took, 

But  all  at  once  my  frame  beneath  it  shook ; 

The  sparkling  jewels  fair  were  they  to  seey 
But  far  too  heavy  was  their  weight  for  me. 

This  may  not  be,  I cried,  and  looked  again, 

To  see  if  there  was  any  here  could  ease  my  pain ; 
But  one  by  one  I passed  them  slowly  by, 

Till  on  a lovely  one  I cast  my  eye; 

Fair  flowers  around  its  sculptured  form  entwined, 
And  grace  and  beauty  seemed  in  it  combined  ; 
Wondering,  I gazed,  and  still  I wondered  more 
To  think  so  many  should  have  passed  it  o’er. 

But,  oh ! that  form  so  beautiful  to  see 
Soon  made  its  hidden  sorrows  known  to  me ; 
Thorns  lay  beneath  those  flowers  and  colors  fair: 
Sorrowing,  I said,  “ This  cross  I may  not  bear.” 

And  so  it  was  with  each  and  all  around — 

Not  one  to  suit  my  need  could  there  be  found  ; 
Weeping,  I laid  each  heavy  burden  down, 

As  my  Guide  gently  said,  “ No  cross,  no  crown  !” 

At  length  to  Him  I raised  my  saddened  heart  • 

He  knew  its  sorrows,  bid  its  doubts  depart. 

“ Be  not  afraid,”  He  said,  “ but  trust  in  me — 

My  perfect  love  shall  now  be  shown  to  tnee.” 

6 


THE  CHANGED  CROSS. 


And  then,  with  lightened  eyes  and  willing  feet, 
Again  I turned,  my  earthly  cross  to  meet, 

With  forward  footsteps,  turning  not  aside, 

For  fear  some  hidden  evil  might  betide. 

And  there,  in  the  prepared,  appointed  way — 
Listening  to  hear  and  ready  to  obey — 

A cross  I quickly  found  of  plainest  form, 

With  only  words  of  love  inscribed  thereon. 

With  thankfulness  I raised  it  from  the  rest, 

And  joyfully  acknowledged  it  the  best — 

The  only  one  of  all  the  many  there 
That  I could  feel  was  good  for  me  to  bear. 

And  while  I thus  my  chosen  one  confessed, 

I saw  a heavenly  brightness  on  it  rest ; 

And  as  I bent,  my  burden  to  sustain, 

I recognized  my  own  old  cross  again  1 

But,  oh  1 how  different  did  it  seem  to  be 
Now  I had  learned  its  preciousness  to  see  1 
No  longer  could  I unbelieving  say, 

Perhaps  another  is  a better  way. 

Ah,  no ! henceforth  my  own  desire  shall  be, 

That  He  who  knows  me  best  should  choose  for  me ; 
And  so  whate’er  His  love  sees  good  to  send, 

I ’ll  trust  it ’s  best,  because  He  knows  the  end. 


“ For  my  thoughts  are  not  your  thoughts,  saith  the  Lord.” — Isaia  u 
50  : 8. 

“ For  I know  the  thoughts  that  I think  towards  you — thoughts  of 
peace,  and  not  of  evil,  to  give  you  an  expected  end.” — Jer.  29  : 11. 

And  when  that  happy  time  shall  come,  of  endless  peace  and  rest, 
We  shall  look  back  upon  our  path,  and  say — It  was  the  best. 

7 


THE  MEETING  PLACE 


Where  the  faded  flower  shall  freshen, 
Freshen  never  more  to  fade  ; 

Where  the  shaded  sky  shall  brighten, 
Brighten  never  more  to  shade ; 

Where  the  sun-blaze  never  scorches ; 
Where  the  star-beams  cease  to  chill ; 
Where  no  tempest  stirs  the  echoes 
Of  the  wood,  or  wave,  or  hill ; 

Where  the  morn  shall  wake  in  gladness, 
And  the  moon  the  joy  prolong ; 

Where  the  daylight  dies  in  fragrance 
’Mid  the  burst  of  holy  song — 

Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
’Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest ! 

Where  no  shadow  shall  bewilder  ; 
Where  life’s  vain  parade  is  o’er ; 

Where  the  sleep  of  sin  is  broken, 

And  the  dreamer  dreams  no  more  ; 
Where  the  bond  is  never  severed — 
Partings,  claspings,  sobs,  and  moan, 
Midnight  waking,  twilight  weeping, 
Heavy  noontide — all  are  done  ; 

Where  the  child  has  found  its  mother, 
Where  the  mother  finds  the  child ; 

8 


THE  MEETING  PLACE. 


Where  dear  families  are  gathered 
That  were  scattered  on  the  wild — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
’Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest ! 

Where  the  hidden  wound  is  healed  ; 
Where  the  blighted  light  re-blooms ; 
Where  the  smitten  heart  the  freshness 
Of  its  buoyant  youth  resumes  ; 

Where  the  love  that  here  we  lavish 
On  the  withering  leaves  of  time, 

Shall  have  fadeless  flowers  to  fix  on, 

In  an  ever  spring  bright  clime ; 

Where  we  find  the  joy  of  loving, 

As  we  never  loved  before  ; 

Loving  on  unchilled,  unhindered, 

Loving  once  and  evermore — 

Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
’Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest ! 

Where  a blasted  world  shall  brighten 
Underneath  a bluer  sphere, 

And  a softer,  gentler  sunshine 
Shed  its  healing  splendor  here  ; 

Where  earth’s  barren  vales  shall  blossom, 
Putting  on  their  robe  of  green, 

And  a purer,  fairer  Eden 
Be  where  only  wastes  have  been  ; 

Where  a King  in  kingly  glory, 

Such  as  earth  has  never  known, 

Shall  assume  the  righteous  sceptre, 

Claim  and  wear  the  heavenly  crown — 
Brother,  we  shall  meet  and  rest 
’Mid  the  holy  and  the  blest ! 


9 


r 


THE  PILGRIM. 


Still  onward  through  this  land  of  foes 
I pass  in  Pilgrim  guise  ; 

I may  not  stop  to  seek  repose 
Where  cool  the  shadow  lies ; 

I may  not  stoop  amid  the  grass 
To  pluck  earth’s  fairest  flowers, 

Nor  by  her  springing  fountains  pass 
The  sultry  noontide  hours ; 

Yet  flowers  I wear  upon  my  breast 
That  no  earth-garden  knows — 

White  lilies  of  immortal  peace, 

And  love’s  deep-tinted  rose  ; 

And  there  the  blue-eyed  flowers  of  faith, 
And  hope’s  bright  buds  of  gold 

As  lone  I tread  the  upward  path, 

In  richest  hues  unfold. 

I keep  my  armor  ever  on, 

For  foes  beset  my  way  ; 

I watch,  lest  passing  on  alone 
I fall  a helpless  prey. 

No  earthly  love  have  I — I lean 
Upon  no  mortal  breast ; 

But  my  Beloved,  though  unseen, 

Walks  near  and  gives  me  rest. 

10 


THE  PILGRIM. 


Afar,  around,  I often  see, 

Throughout  this  desert  wide, 

His  Pilgrims  pressing  on  like  me— 

They  often  pass  my  side  : 

The  kindly  smile,  the  gentle  word, 

For  Jesus’  sake  1 give  ; 

But  love — 0 Thou  alone  adored  ! 

For  Thee  alone  I live. 

Painful  and  dark  the  pathway  seems 
To  distant  earthly  eyes  ; 

They  only  see  the  hedging  thorns 
On  either  side  that  rise  ; 

They  can  not  know  how  soft  between 
The  flowers  of  love  are  strewn — 

The  sunny  ways,  the  pastures  green, 

. Where  Jesus  leads  His  own ; 

They  can  not  see,  as  darkening  clouds 
Behind  the  Pilgrim  close, 

How  far  adown  the  western  glade 
The  golden  glory  flows ; 

They  can  not  hear  ’mid  earthly  din 
The  song  to  Pilgrims  known, 

Still  blending  with  the  angels’  hymn 
Around  the  wondrous  throne. 

So  I,  Thy  bounteous  token-flowers 
Still  on  my  bosom  wear ; 

While  me,  the  fleeting  love-winged  hours 
To  Thee  still  nearer  bear ; 

So  from  my  lips  Thy  song  shall  flow, 

My  sweetest  music  be  ; 

So  on  mine  eyes  the  glory  grow, 

Till  all  is  lost  in  Thee. 

11 


HOLY  TEARS 


Yes,  thou  mayst  weep,  for  Jesus  shed 
Such  tears  as  those  thou  sheddest  now. 

When  for  the  living  or  the  dead, 

Sorrow  lay  heavy  on  His  brow. 

He  sees  thee  weep,  yet  doth  not  blame 
The  weakness  of  thy  flesh  and  heart ; 

Thy  human  nature  is  the  same 
As  that  in  which  He  took  a part. 

* 

He  knows  its  weakness,  for  He  felt 
The  crushing  power  of  pain  and  woe, 

How  body,  soul,  and  spirit  melt 
And  faint  beneath  the  stunning  blow. 

What  if  poor  sinners  count  thy  grief 
The  sign  of  an  unchastened  will? 

He  who  can  give  thy  soul  relief, 

Knows  that  thou  art  submissive  stilL 

Turn  thee  to  Him,  to  Him  alone  ; 

For  all  that  our  poor  lips  can  say 

To  soothe  thee,  broken-hearted  one, 
Would  fail  to  comfort  thee  to-day. 

We  will  not  speak  to  thee,  but  sit 
In  prayerful  silence  by  thy  side  : 

Grief  has  its  ebbs  and  flows ; ’tis  fit 
Our  love  should  wait  the  ebbing  tide. 

Jesus  Himself  will  comfort  thee, 

In  His  own  time,  in  His  own  way; 

And  haply  more  than  “two  or  throe 99 
Unite  in  prayer  for  thee  to-day. 

12 


GOD  „OUR  STRENGTH. 


Man  in  his  weakness  needs  a stronger  stay 
Than  fellow-men,  the  holiest  and  the  best : 

And  yet  we  turn  to  them  from  day  to  day, 

As  if  in  them  our  spirits  could  find  rest. 

Gently  untwine  our  childish  hands,  that  cling 
To  such  inadequate  supports  as  these, 

And  shelter  us  beneath  Thy  heavenly  wing, 

Till  we  have  learned  to  walk  alone  with  case. 

Help  us,  0 Lord ! with  patient  love,  to  bear 
Each  other’s  faults,  to  suffer  with  true  meekness ; 

Help  us  each  other’s  joys  and  griefs  to  share, 

But  let  us  turn  to  Thee  alone  in  weakness. 


WHOLLY  RESIGNED. 


Chrtst  leads  us  through  no  darker  rooms 
Than  He  went  through  before : 

He  that  into  God’s  kingdom  comes, 

Must  enter  by  this  door  : 

Come,  Lord,  when  grace  hath  made  me  meet 
Thy  blessed  face  to  see, 

For  if  Thy  work  on  earth  be  sweet, 

What  will  Thy  glory  be ! 

Then  I shall  end  my  sad  complaints, 

And  weary,  sinful  days ; 

And  join  with  the  triumphant  saints, 

That  sing  Jehovah’s  praise  : 

My  knowledge  of  that  life  is  small, 

The  eye  of  faith  is  dim, 

But  ’tis  enough  that  Christ  knows  all, 

And  I shall  be  with  Him. 

13 


“MY  TIMES  ARE  IN  TIIY  IIANIV’ 


Psalm  31 : 15. 

Father,  I know  that  all  my  life 
Is  portioned  out  for  me ; 

And  the  changes  that  are  sure  to  come, 
I do  not  fear  to  see : 

But  I ask  Thee  for  a present  mind 
Intent  on  pleasing  Thee. 

I ask  Thee  for  a thankful  love, 

Through  constant  watching  wise, 

To  meet  the  glad  with  joyful  smiles, 
And  to  wipe  the  weeping  eyes, 

And  a heart  at  leisure  from  itself, 

To  soothe  and  sympathize. 

I would  not  have  the  restless  will 
That  hurries  to  and  fro, 

Seeking  for  some  great  thing  to  do, 

Or  secret  thing  to  know ; 

I would  be  dealt  with  as  a child, 

And  guided  where  to  go. 

Wherever  in  the  world  ! am, 

In  whatsoe’er  estate, 

I have  a fellowship  with  hearts, 

To  keep  and  cultivate ; 

And  a work  of  holy  love  to  do, 

For  the  Lord  on  whom  I wait. 

14 


MY  TIMES  ARE  IN  THY  HAND. 


I ask  Thee  for  the  daily  strength, 

To  none  that  ask  denied  ; 

And  a mind  to  blend  with  outward  life, 
While  keeping  at  Thy  side, 

Content  to  fill  a little  space, 

If  Thou  be  glorified. 


And  if  some  things  I do  not  ask, 

In  my  cup  of  blessing  be, 

I would  have  my  spirit  filled  the  more 
With  grateful  love  to  Thee — 

More  careful  than  to  serve  Thee  much, 
To  please  Thee  perfectly. 

There  are  briers  besetting  every  path, 
That  call  for  patient  care; 

There  is  a crook  in  every  lot, 

And  a need  for  earnest  prayer, 

But  a lowly  heart  that  leans  on  Thee, 
Is  happy  every  where. 

In  a service  that  Thy  love  appoints, 
There  are  no  bonds  for  me, 

For  my  secret  heart  is  taught  the  truth 
That  makes  thy  children  “ free,” 

And  a life  of  self-renouncing  love 
Is  a life  of  liberty. 


15 


THE  BORDER-LANDS 


Father,  into  Thy  loving  hands, 

My  feeble  spirit  I commit, 

While  wandering  in  these  Border-Lands, 
Until  Thy  voice  shall  summon  it. 

Father,  I would  not  dare  to  choose 
A longer  life,  an  earlier  death ; 

I know  not  what  my  soul  might  lose 
By  shortened  or  protracted  breath. 

These  Border-Lands  are  calm  and  still, 
And  solemn  are  their  silent  shades ; 

And  my  heart  welcomes  them,  until 
The  light  of  life’s  long  evening  fadcs- 

I heard  them  spoken  of  with  dread, 

As  fearful  and  unquiet  places ; 

Shades,  where  the  living  and  the  dead 
Look  sadly  in  each  other’s  faces. 

But  since  Thy  hand  hath  led  me  here, 
And  I have  seen  the  Border-Land ; 

Seen  the  dark  river  flowing  near, 

Stood  on  its  brink,  as  now  I stand, 

There  has  been  nothing  to  alarm 

My  trembling  soul ; how  could  I fear 

While  thus  encircled  with  Thine  arm  ? 

I never  felt  Thee  half  so  near. 

16 


THE  BORDER-LANDS. 


What  should  appal  me  in  a place 
That  brings  me  hourly  nearer  Theo  ? 

When  I may  almost  see  Thy  face — 
Surely  ’tis  here  my  soul  would  be. 

They  say  the  waves  are  dark  and  deep, 
That  faith  has  perished  in  the  river  ; 

They  speak  of  death  with  fear,  and  weep : 
Shall  my  soul  perish  ? Never,  never. 

I know  that  Thou  wilt  never  leave 
The  soul  that  trembles  while  it  clings 

To  Thee : I know  Thou  wilt  achieve 
Its  passage  on  Thine  out-spread  wings. 

And  since  I first  was  brought  so  near 
The  stream  that  flows  to  the  Dead  Sea, 

I think  that  it  has  grown  more  clear 
And  shallow  than  it  used  to  be. 

I can  not  see  the  golden  gate 
Unfolding  yet  to  welcome  me  j 

I can  not  yet  anticipate 
The  joy  of  heaven’s  jubilee. 

But  I will  calmly  watch  and  pray, 

Until  I hear  my  Saviour’s  voice, 

Calling  my  happy  soul  away 
To  see  His  glory,  and  rejoice, 


17 


“ ALL,  ALL  IS  KNOWN  TO  THEE.” 

“ When  my  spirit  was  overwhelmed  within  me,  then  thou  Jcncio 
est  my  path.” 


My  God,  whose  gracious  pity  I may  claim, 
Calling  Thee  Father,  sweet,  endearing  name  ! 
The  sufferings  of  this  weak  and  weary  frame, 
All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 

From  human  eye ’t  is  better  to  conceal 
Much  that  I suffer,  much  I hourly  feel ; 

But  oh ! the  thought  does  tranquillize  and  heal, 
All,  all  is  known  to  thee. 

Each  secret  conflict  with  indwelling  sin, 

Each  sickening  fear  I ne’er  the  prize  shall  win, 
Each  pang  from  irritation,  turmoil,  din — 

All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 

When  in  the  morning  unrefreshed  I wake, 

Or  in  the  night  but  little  sleep  can  take, 

This  brief  appeal  submissively  I make — 

All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

18 


ALL,  ALL  IS  KNOWN  TO  THEE. 


Nay,  all  by  Thee  is  ordered,  chosen,  planned  - 
Each  drop  that  fills  my  daily  cup ; thy  hand 
Prescribes  for  ills  none  else  can  understand. 

All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

The  effectual  means  to  cure  what  I deplore ; 

In  me  thy  longed-for  likeness  to  restore  ; 

Self  to  dethrone,  never  to  govern  more — 

All,  all  are  known  to  Thee. 

And  this  continued  feebleness,  this  state 
Which  seems  to  unnerve  and  incapacitate, 

Will  work  the  cure  my  hopes  and  prayers  await — 
That  can  I leave  to  Thee. 

Nor  will  the  bitter  draught  distasteful  prove, 

When  I recall  the  Son  of  Thy  dear  love 
The  cup  Thou  wouldst  not  for  our  sakes  remove — 
That  cup  He  drank  for  me. 

He  drank  it  to  the  dregs — no  drop  remained 
Of  wrath,  for  those  whose  cup  of  woe  he  drained ; 
Man  ne’er  can  know  what  that  sad  cup  contained— 
All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

And  welcome — - precious  can  His  spirit  make 
My  little  drop  of  suffering  for  His  sake. 

Father,  the  cup  I drink,  the  path  I take, 

All,  all  is  known  to  Thee. 

19 


Oil ! FOR  THE  HAPPY  DAYS  GONE  BY. 


Oh  ! for  the  happy  days  gone  by, 

When  love  ran  smooth  and  free, 

Days  when  my  spirit  so  enjoyed 
More  than  earth’s  liberty  I 

Oh ! for  the  times  when  on  my  heart 
Long  prayer  had  never  palled, 

Times  when  the  ready  thought  of  God 
Would  come  when  it  was  called ! 

Then  when  I knelt  to  meditate, 

Sweet  thoughts  came  o’er  my  soul, 

Countless,  and  bright,  and  beautiful, 

Beyond  my  own  control. 

Oh  ! who  hath  locked  those  fountains  up  ? 
Those  visions  who  hath  staid  ? 

What  sudden  act  hath  thus  transformed 
My  sunshine  into  shade  ? 

This  freezing  heart,  0 Lord ! this  will 
Dry  as  the  desert  sand — 

Good  thoughts  that  will  not  come,  bad  thoughts 
That  come  without  command — 

20 


HAPPY  DAYS. 


A faith  that  seems  not  faith,  a hope 
That  cares  not  for  its  aim — 

A love  that  none  the  hotter  grows 
At  Jesus’  blessed  name — 

The  weariness  of  prayer,  the  mist 
O’er  conscience  overspread — 

The  chill  repugnance  to  frequent 
The  feast  of  angels’  bread: 

If  this  drear  change  be  Thine,  0 Lord f 
If  it  be  Thy  sweet  will, 

Spare  not,  but  to  the  very  brim 
The  bitter  chalice  fill ; 

But  if  it  hath  been  sin  of  mine, 

Oh ! show  that  sin  to  me — 

Not  to  get  back  the  sweetness  lost, 

But  to  make  peace  with  Thee. 

One  thing  alone,  dear  Lord  I I dread : 
To  have  a secret  spot 
That  separates  my  soul  from  Thee, 

And  yet  to  know  it  not. 

Oh  ! when  the  tide  of  graces  set 
So  full  upon  my  heart, 

I know,  dear  Lord ! how  faithlessly 
I did  my  little  part. 

21 


HAPPY  HAYS. 


I know  how  well  my  heart  hath  earned 
A chastisement  like  this, 

In  trifling  many  a grace  away 
In  self-complacent  bliss. 

But  if  this  weariness  hath  come 
A present  from  on  high, 

Teach  me  to  find  the  hidden  wealth 
That  in  its  depths  may  lie ; 

So  in  this  darkness  I can  learn 
To  tremble  and  adore, 

To  sound  my  own  vile  nothingness, 

And  thus  to  love  Thee  more ; 

To  love  Thee,  and  yet  not  to  think 
That  I can  love  so  much ; 

To  have  Thee  with  me,  Lord ! all  day 
Yet  not  to  feel  Thy  touch. 

If  I have  served  Thee,  Lord  ! for  hire. 
Hire  which  Thy  beauty  showed, 

Ah ! I can  serve  Thee  now  for  naught, 
And  only  as  my  God. 

Oh  ! blessed  be  this  darkness,  then, 

This  deep  in  which  I lie, 

And  blessed  be  all  things  that  teach 
God’s  dread  supremacy  1 
22 


LOST  TREASURES. 


Let  us  be  patient,  God  has  taken  from  us 
The  earthly  treasures  upon  which  we  leaned, 

That  from  the  fleeting  things  which  lie  around  us, 

Our  clinging  hearts  should  be  forever  weaned. 

They  have  passed  from  us — all  our  broad  possessions : 
Ships,  whose  white  sails  flung  wdde  past  distant  shores ; 

Lands,  whose  rich  harvests  smiled  in  the  glad  sunshine  ; 
Silver  and  gold,  and  all  our  hoarded  stores. 

Amd,  dearer  far,  the  pleasant  home  where  gathered 
Our  loved  and  loving  round  the  blazing  hearth ; 

Where  honored  age  on  the  soft  cushions  rested, 

And  childhood  played  about  in  frolic  mirth : 

Where  underneath  the  softened  light  bent  kindly 
The  mother’s  tender  glance  on  daughters  fair ; 

And  he  on  whom  all  leant  with  fond  confiding, 

Rested  contented  from  his  daily  care. 

All  shipwrecked  in  one  common  desolation  I 
The  garden- walks  by  other  feet  are  trod  ; 

The  clinging  vines  by  other  fingers  tutored 
To  fling  their  shadows  o’er  the  grassy  sod. 

While  carking  care  and  deep  humiliation, 

In  tears  are  mingled  with  their  daily  bread ; 

And  the  rude  blasts  we  never  thought  could  reach  us, 
Have  spent  their  worst  on  each  defenseless  head. 

23 


LOST  TREASURES. 


Let  us  be  cheerful ! The  same  sky  o’er-arches — 

Soft  rain  falls  on  the  evil  and  the  good ; 

On  narrow  walls,  and  through  our  humbler  dwelling, 
God’s  glorious  sunshine  pours  as  rich  a flood. 

Faith,  hope,  and  love  still  in  our  hearts  abiding, 

May  bear  their  precious  fruits  in  us  the  same  ; 

And  to  the  couch  of  suffering  we  may  carry, 

If  but  the  cup  of  water,  in  His  name. 

Let  us  be  thankful,  if  in  this  affliction 
Ho  grave  is  opened  for  the  loving  heart ; 

And  while  we  bend  beneath  our  Father’s  chiding, 

We  yet  can  mourn  “each  family  apart.” 

Shoulder  to  shoulder  let  us  breast  the  torrent, 

With  not  one  cold  reproach  nor  angry  look  ; 

There  are  some  seasons,  when  the  heart  is  smitten 
It  can  no  whisper  of  unkindness  brook. 

Our  life  is  not  in  all  these  brief  possessions ; 

Our  home  is  not  in  any  pleasant  spot ; 

Pilgrims  and  strangers  we  must  journey  onward, 
Contented  with  the  portion  of  our  lot. 

These  earthly  walls  must  shortly  be  dismantled  ; 

These  earthly  tents  be  struck  by  angel  hands ; 

But  to  be  built  up  on  a sure  foundation, 

There,  where  our  Father’s  mansion  ever  stands  ? 

There  shall  we  meet,  parent  and  child,  and  dearer 
That  earthly  love  which  makes  half  heaven  of  home ; 

There  shall  we  find  our  treasures  all  awaiting, 

Where  change  and  death  and  parting  never  come. 

24 


SUNDAY. 


**  I was  in  the  spirit  on  the  Lord’s  day.” — Rey.  1 : 10. 


After  long  days  of  storms  and  showers, 

Of  sighing  winds,  and  dripping  bowers, 
How  sweet,  at  morn,  to  ope  our  eyes 
On  newly  “ swept  and  garnished  ” skies ! 

To  miss  the  clouds,  and  driving  rain, 

And  see  that  all  is  bright  again — 

So  bright  we  can  not  choose  but  say, 

Is  this  the  world  of  yesterday  ? 

Even  so,  methinks,  the  Sunday  brings 
A change  o’er  all  familiar  things  ; 

A change — we  know  not  whence  it  came-^ 
They  are,  and  they  are  not,  the  same. 

There  is  a spell  within,  around, 

On  eye  and  ear,  on  sight  and  sound  ; 

And  loth  or  willing,  they  and  we 
Must  own  this  day  a mystery. 

Sure  all  things  wear  a heavenly  dress 
That  sanctifies  their  loveliness  , 

Types  of  that  endless  resting-day, 

When  “ we  shall  be  changed”  as  they. 

25 


SUNDAY. 


To-day  our  peaceful,  ordered  home 
Foreshadoweth  mansions  yet  to  come ; 

We  foretaste,  in  domestic  love, 

The  faultless  charities  above. 

And  as  at  yester-eventide 

Our  tasks  and  toys  were  laid  aside  ; 

Lo  ! here  our  training  for  the  day 
When  we  shall  lay  them  down  for  aye. 

But  not  alone  for  musings  deep, 

Meek  souls  their  “ day  of  days  ” will  keep 
Yet  other  glorious  things  than  these, 

The  Christian  in  his  Sabbath  sees. 

His  eyes,  by  faith,  his  Lord  behold  ; 

How  on  the  week’s  first  day  of  old, 

From  hell  he  rose,  on  death  he  trod, 

Was  seen  of  men,  and  went  to  God. 

And  as  we  fondly  pause  to  look 
Where  in  some  daily-handled  book, 
Approval’s  well-known  tokens  stand, 
Traced  by  some  dear  and  thoughtful  hand 

Even  so  there  shines  one  day  in  seven, 
Bright  with  the  special  mark  of  heaven, 
That  we  with  love  and  praise  may  dwell 
On  Him  who  loveth  us  so  well. 

Whether,  in  meditative  walk, 

Alone  with  God  and  heaven  we  talk, 
Catching  the  simple  chime  that  calls 
Our  feet  to  some  old  church’s  walls ; 

26 


StTNDAY. 


Or  passed  within  the  church’s  door, 

Where  poor  are  rich,  and  rich  are  poor, 

We  say  the  prayers,  and  hear  the  word, 
Which  there  our  fathers  said  and  heard ; 

Or  represent  in  solemn  wise, 

Our  all-prevailing  sacrifice  ; 

Feeding  in  joint  communion  high, 

The  life  of  faith  that  can  not  die. 

And  surely  in  a world  like  this, 

So  rife  with  woe,  so  scant  of  bliss — 

Where  fondest  hopes  are  oftenest  crossed, 
And  fondest  hopes  are  severed  most ; 

’Tis  something  that  we  kneel  and  pray 
With  loved  ones  near  and  far  away ; 

One  God,  one  faith,  one  hope,  one  care, 
One  form  of  words,  one  hour  of  prayer. 

’Tis  just — yet  pause,  till  ear  and  heart, 

In  one  brief  silence,  ere  we  part, 

Somewhat  of  that  high  strain  have  caught, 
“ The  peace  of  God  which  passeth  thought.” 

Then  turn  we  to  our  earthly  homes, 

Not  doubting  but  that  Jesus  comes, 
Breathing  his  peace  on  hall  and  hut, 

At  evening  when  the  doors  are  shut ; 

Then  speeds  us  on  our  work-day  way, 

And  hallows  every  common  day  ; 

Without  him  Sunday’s  self  were  dim, 

But  all  are  bright,  if  spent  with  him . 

27 


ONE  BY  ONE 


One  by  one  the  sands  are  flowing, 

One  by  one  the  moments  fall, 

Some  are  coming,  some  are  going — 

Do  not  strive  to  grasp  them  all. 

One  by  one  thy  duties  wait  thee, 

Let  thy  whole  strength  go  to  each  ; 

Let  no  future  dreams  elate  thee  ; 

Learn  thou  first  what  those  can  teach. 

One  by  one,  (bright  gifts  from  heaven,) 
Joys  are  sent  thee  here  below  ; 

Take  them  readily,  when  given, 

Ready  too  to  let  them  go. 

One  by  one  thy  griefs  shall  meet  thee, 
Do  not  fear  an  armed  band  ; 

One  will  fade,  while  others  greet  thee, 
Shadows  passing  through  the  land. 

Do  not  look  at  life’s  long  sorrow, 

See  how  small  each  moment’s  pain  ; 

God  will  help  thee  for  to-morrow— 
Every  day  begin  again. 

Every  hour  that  fleets  so  slowly, 

Has  its  task  to  do  or  bear  ; 

Luminous  the  crown,  and  holy, 

If  thou  set  each  gem  with  care. 

28 


ONE  BY  ONE. 


Do  not  linger  with  regretting, 

Or  for  passion’s  hour  despond } 
Nor,  the  daily  toil  forgetting, 

Look  too  eagerly  beyond. 

Hours  are  golden  links,  God’s  token, 
Reaching  heaven  but  one  by  one ; 
Take  them  lest  the  chain  be  broken, 
Ere  the  pilgrimage  be  done. 


MARY’S  CHOICE. 


Jesus,  engrave  it  on  my  heart, 

That  thou  the  one  thing  needful  art ; 

I could  from  all  things  parted  be, 

But  never,  never,  Lord,  from  thee. 

Needful  is  thy  most  precious  blood, 
Needful  is  thy  correcting  rod, 

Needful  is  thy  indulgent  care, 

Needful  thy  all-prevailing  prayer. 

Needful  thy  presence,  dearest  Lord, 

True  peace  and  comfort  to  afford  ; 
Needful  thy  promise  to  impart 
Fresh  life  and  vigor  to  my  heart. 

Needful  art  thou  to  be  my  stay 
Through  all  life’s  dark  and  thorny  way ; 
Nor  less  in  death  thou’lt  needful  be, 

To  bring  my  spirit  home  to  thee. 

Then  needful  still,  my  God,  my  King, 
Thy  name  eternally  I’ll  sing ; 

Glory  and  praise  be  ever  his, 

The  one  thing  needful,  Jesus  is 

29 


NEARER  HOME.” 


i 6 


One  sweetly  solemn  thought 
Comes  to  me  o’er  and  o’er : 

I’m  nearer  home  to-day 

Than  I ever  have  been  before. 

Nearer  my  Father’s  house, 

Where  the  many  mansions  be  ; 

Nearer  the  great  white  throne, 
Nearer  the  jasper  sea  ; 

Nearer  the  bound  of  life, 

Where  we  lay  our  burdens  down ; 

Nearer  leaving  the  cross, 

Nearer  wearing  the  crown. 

But  lying  darkly  between, 

Winding  down  through  the  night, 

Is  the  dim  and  unknown  stream 
That  leads  at  last  to  the  light. 

Closer,  closer  my  steps 
Come  to  the  dark  abysm, 

Closer,  death  to  my  lips 
Presses  the  awful  chrism. 

Saviour,  perfect  my  trust, 

Strengthen  the  might  of  my  faith, 

Let  me  feel  as  I would  when  I stand 
On  the  rock  of  the  shore  of  death  ; 
30 


NEARER  HOME. 


Feel  as  I would  when  my  feet 
Are  slipping  over  the  brink  ; 
For  it  may  be  I’m  nearer  home, 
Nearer  now,  than  I think. 


OH!  TO  BE  READY. 


li  Oh  ! to  be  ready  when  death  shall  come, 

Oh ! to  be  ready  to  hasten  home ! 

No  earthward  clinging,  no  lingering  gaze, 

No  strife  at  parting,  no  sore  amaze  ; 

No  chains  to  sever  that  earth  hath  twined, 

No  spell  to  loosen  that  love  would  bind. 

“ No  flitting  shadows  to  dim  the  light 
Of  the  angel-pinions  winged  for  flight, 

No  cloud-like  phantoms  to  fling  a gloom 
’Twixt  heaven’s  bright  portals  and  earth’s  dark  tomb 
But  sweetly,  gently,  to  pass  away 
From  the  world’s  dim  twilight  into  day. 

“ To  list  the  music  of  angel  lyres, 

To  catch  the  rapture  of  seraph  fires, 

To  lean  in  trust  on  the  risen  One, 

Till  borne  away  to  a fadeless  throne  ; 

Oh ! to  be  ready  when  death  shall  come, 

Oh  ! to  be  ready  to  hasten  home!” 


31 


THE  BRIDEGROOM'S  DOYE. 


0 my  Dove ! in  the  clefts  of  the  rock,  in  the  secret  of  the  stairs 
Cant.  2 : 14. 


“ My  Dove  !”  The  Bridegroom  speaks.  To  whom  ? 
Whom,  think’st  thou,  meaneth  He  ? 

Say,  0 my  soul ! canst  thou  presume 
He  thus  addresseth  thee  ? 

Yes,  ’tis  the  Bridegroom’s  voice  of  love, 

Calling  thee,  0 my  soul ! His  Dove ! 

The  Dove  is  gentle,  mild,  and  meek  : 

Deserve  I,  then,  the  name  ? 

I look  within  in  vain  to  seek 
Aught  which  can  give  a claim : 

Yet,  made  so  by  redeeming  love, 

My  soul,  thou  art  the  Bridegroom’s  Dove  ! 

Methinks,  my  soul,  that  thou  may’st  see, 

In  this  endearing  word, 

Reasons  why  Jesus  likens  thee 
To  this  defenceless  bird  ; 

Reasons  which  show  the  Bridegroom’s  love 
To  His  poor  helpless,  timid  Dove  ! 

The  Dove,  of  all  the  feathered  tribe, 

Doth  least  of  power  possess  : 

My  soul,  what  better  can  describe 
Thine  utter  helplessness  ? 

Yet  courage  take  ! the  Bridegroom’s  love 
Will  keep,  defend,  protect  His  Dove  ! 

32 


THE  BRIDEGROOM’S  DOVE. 


The  Dove  hath  neither  claw  nor  sting, 

Nor  weapon  for  the  fight ; 

She  owes  her  safety  to  her  wing, 

Her  victory  to  flight. 

A shelter  hath  the  Bridegroom’s  love 
Provided  for  his  helpless  Dove  ! 

The  Hawk  comes  on,  in  eager  chase — • 

The  Dove  will  not  resist ; 

In  flying  to  her  hiding-place, 

Her  safety  doth  consist. 

The  Bridegroom  opes  his  arms  of  love, 

And  in  them  folds  His  panting  Dove  ! 

Nothing  the  Dove  can  now  molest, 

Safe  from  the  fowier’s  snare ; 

The  Bridegroom’s  bosom  is  her  nest — 
Nothing  can  harm  her  there. 

Encircled  by  the  arms  of  love, 

Almighty  power  protects  the  Dove ! 

As  the  poor  Dove,  before  the  Hawk, 

Quick  to  her  refuge  flies, 

So  need  I,  in  my  daily  walk, 

The  wing  which  faith  supplies 
To  bear  me  where  the  Bridegroom’s  love 
Places  beyond  all  harm  His  Dove ! 

My  soul  of  native  power  bereft, 

To  Calvary  repairs : 

Immanuel  is  the  rocky  cleft , 

The  secret  of  the  stairs  ! 

Since  placed  there  by  the  Bridegroom’s  love, 
What  evil  can  befall  His  Dove  ? 


r 


THE  BRIDEGROOM’S  DOVE. 


Though  Sinai’s  thunder  round  her  roars, 
Though  Ebal’s  lightnings  flash, 

Though  heaven  a fiery  torrent  pours, 

And  riven  mountains  crash — 

Through  all,  the  “ still  small  voice  ” of  love 
Whispers,  “ Be  not  afraid,  my  Dove  !” 

What  though  the  heavens  away  may  pass, 
With  fervent  heat  dissolve, 

And  round  the  sun  this  earthly  mass 
No  longer  shall  revolve  ! 

Behold  a miracle  of  love  ! 

The  lion  quakes,  but  not  the  Dove  ! 

My  soul,  now  hid  within  a r.ock, 

(The  u Rock  of  Ages”  called,) 

Amid  the  universal  shock 
Is  fearless,  unappalled. 

A cleft  therein,  prepared  by  love, 

In  safety  hides  the  Bridegroom’s  Dove  ! 

0 happy  Dove  ! thus  weak,  thus  safe  ; 

Do  I resemble  her  ? 

Then  to  my  soul,  0 Lord ! vouchsafe 
A dove-like  character ! 

Pure,  harmless,  gentle,  full  of  love, 

Make  me  in  spirit,  Lord,  a Dove ! 

0 Thou  who  on  the  Bridegroom’s  head 
Didst,  as  a Dove,  come  down, 

Within  my  soul  Thy  graces  shed, 

Establish  there  Thy  throne  ; 

There  shed  abroad  a Saviour’s  love, 

Thou  holy,  pure,  and  heavenly  Dove  ! 


34 


S.  R.  M. 


GOD,  MY  EXCEEDING  JOY 


Psalm  43  : 4. 

I. 

Early  my  spirit  turned 
Prom  earthly  things  away, 

And  agonized  and  yearned 
For  the  eternal  day  : 

Dimly  I saw,  when  but  a boy, 

God,  my  exceeding  joy. 

II. 

In  days  of  fiercer  flame, 

When  passion  urged  me  on, 

’Twas  only  bliss  in  name — 

The  pleasure  soon  was  gone. 

Compared  with  thee,  how  all  things  cloy 
God,  my  exceeding  joy ! 

III. 

At  length  the  moment  came — 

Jesus  made  known  his  love  ; 

High  shot  the  kindling  flame 
To  glories  all  above. 

Now  all  the  powers  one  theme  employ, 
God,  my  exceeding  joy. 

IV. 

Shadows  came  on  apace  ; 

Tears  were  a pensive  shower  ; 

I cried  for  timely  grace 
To  save  me  from  the  hour : 

Thou  gavest  peace  without  alloy, 

God,  my  exceeding  joy. 

35 


GOD,  MY  EXCEEDING  JOYr. 


V. 


One  trial  yet  awaits, 

Gigantic  at  the  close  ; 

All  that  my  spirit  hates 

May  then  my  peace  oppose  ; 

But  God  shall  this  last  foe  destroy, 
God,  my  exceeding  joy. 


GOD’S  SUPPORT  AND  GUIDANCE. 


TRANSLATED  FROM  THE  GERMAN. 


Forsake  me  not,  my  God, 

Thou  God  of  my  salvation ! 

Give  me  thy  light,  to  be 
My  sure  illumination. 

My  soul  to  folly  turns, 

Seeking  she  knows  not  what ; 

Oh  1 lead  her  to  thyself— 

My  God,  forsake  me  not ! 

Forsake  me  not,  my  God  1 
Take  not  thy  Spirit  from  me ; 

And  suffer  not  the  might 
Of  sin  to  o’ercome  me. 

A father  pitieth 

The  children  he  begot ; 

My  Father,  pity  me — 

My  Gtod,  forsake  me  not 

36 


god’s  support  and  guidance. 


Forsake  me  not,  my  God ! 

Thou  God  of  life  and  power, 
Enliven,  strengthen  me 
In  every  evil  hour ; 

And  when  the  sinful  fire 
Within  my  heart  is  hot, 

Be  not  thou  far  from  me — 

My  God,  forsake  me  not ! 

Forsake  me  not,  my  God ! 

Uphold  me  in  my  going, 

That  evermore  I may 

Please  thee  in  all  well-doing ; 
And  that  thy  will,  0 Lord  ! 

May  never  be  forgot 
In  all  my  works  and  ways — 

My  God,  forsake  me  not  I 

Forsake  me  not,  my  God ! 

I would  be  thine  forever ; 
Confirm  me  mightily 
In  every  right  endeavor : 

And  when  my  hour  is  oome, 
Cleansed  from  all  stain  and  spot 
Of  sin,  receive  my  soul — 

My  God,  forsake  me  not  I 


37 


I AM. 


“ God  calls  himself  I Am,  leaving  a blank  which  each  soul  may  fill 
op  with  that  which  is  most  precious  to  himself.” 


Thou  bid’st  us  call,  and  giv’st  us  many  a name, 
That  thou  may’st  hear  and  answer  every  cry  ; 
But — for  the  wants  of  all  are  not  the  same — 
Another  name  thy  wondrous  love  did  try ; 

To  Moses  first  thou  gav’st  it,  and  he  knew 
Its  worth,  and  taught  us  how  to  prize  it,  too. 

I Am — let  every  sinner  kneel,  and  thank 
The  Lord,  and  with  his  wants  fill  up  the  blank. 
Thy  very  wounds  do  say,  each  drop  they  bleed, 
“ I am  thy  need.” 


Oh  ! I am  weary  of  this  life, 

Of  all  its  vanity  and  care ; 

Where  can  I hide  me  from  its  strife, 
From  all  its  noises — where  ? 

My  spirit  sinks  beneath  the  load, 

I pant  to  reach  a safe  abode. 

When  shall  I find  a sweet  release  ? 
Remains  there  yet  a lasting  peace, 

A calm  from  my  long  storm-tost  breast  ? 
“ I Am  thy  rest.” 


Oh  ! I am  full  of  grievous  sin, 

I can  do  naught  that’s  right ; 

0 God  ! how  base  my  soul  is  in 
Thy  pure  and  holy  sight ! 

Thy  perfect  laws  I daily,  hourly  break, 

And  will  not  yield  my  will  for  thy  sweet  sake. 

38 


(■ 


I AM. 


Still  in  my  soul  do  burn  wicked  desires, 

And  my  heart’s  altar  bears  unhallowed  fires , 

I can  do  naught  but  all  these  things  confess. 

“I  Am  thy  righteousness.” 

But,  Lord,  I am  so  weak,  so  weak, 

I can  not  stand  before  thy  face, 

Thy  praises  I can  hardly  speak, 

Hardly  stretch  forth  my  hands  for  grace  ; 

The  way  seems  long,  the  burden  who  can  bear? 
Lord,  must  I sink  beneath  the  load  of  care  ? 

Thus  is  it  now,  what  shall  it  be  at  length  ? 

“ I Am  thy  strength.” 

Lord,  I must  die  ; e’en  now  the  wing 
Of  thy  dread  angel  hovereth  nigh ; 

I know  the  message  he  doth  bring — 

“ Soul,  thou  hast  sinned,  and  thou  must  die.” 

All  nature  feels  and  owns  the  just  decree, 

And  is  this  all  that  is  in  store  for  me — 

Ashes  to  ashes,  dust  to  kindred  dust, 

No  hope,  no  light  ? Surely  my  spirit  must 
Sink  in  despair  ere  nature’s  last,  fierce  strife — 

“ I Am  thy  life.” 

Oh  ! wonderful  thou  art ! 

Too  wonderful  for  me  is  such  great  love, 

Shining  in  such  a heart 
Like  sunbeams  from  above. 

How  rich  am  I ! yea,  all  things  I possess, 

Peace,  joy,  life,  strength,  and  perfect  righteousness. 
Jehovah  shows  himself,  and  gives  to  me 
All  my  desire.  Look,  trembling  soul,  and  see 
On  what  a treasury  thy  want  may  call — 

“ I Am  thine  all  in  all.” 


39 


A LITTLE  WHILE 


Beyond  the  smiling  and  the  weeping 
I shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  waking  and  the  sleeping, 

Beyond  the  sowing  and  the  reaping, 

I shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  blooming  and  the  fading 
I shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  shining  and  the  shading, 

Beyond  the  hoping  and  the  dreading, 
I shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  rising  and  the  setting 
I shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  calming  and  the  fretting, 

Beyond  remembering  and  forgetting, 

I shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home ! 

Sweet  hope  ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

40 


A LITTLE  WHILE. 


Beyond  the  gathering  and  the  strewing 
I shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  ebbing  and  the  flowing, 

Beyond  the  coming  and  the  going, 

I shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  parting  and  the  meeting 
I shall  be  soon ; 

Beyond  the  farewell  and  the  greeting, 

Beyond  this  pulse’s  fever  beating, 

I shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope  ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 

Beyond  the  frost-chain  and  the  fever 
I shall  be  soon  ; 

Beyond  the  rock-waste  and  the  river, 

Beyond  the  ever  and  the  never, 

I shall  be  soon. 

Love,  rest,  and  home  ! 

Sweet  hope  ! 

Lord,  tarry  not,  but  come. 


41 


HINDER  ME  NOT 


Hinder  me  not ! the  path  is  long  and  weary, 

I may  not  pause  nor  tarry  by  the  way, 

•Night  cometh,  when  no  man  may  journey  onward, 

For  we  must  walk  as  children  of  the  day. 

I know  the  city  lieth  fair  behind  me, 

The  very  brightest  gem  that  studs  the  plain, 

But  thick  and  fast  the  lurid  clouds  are  rising, 

Which  soon  shall  scatter  into  fiery  rain. 

I must  press  on  until  I reach  my  Zoar, 

And  there  find  refuge  from  the  fearful  blast : 

In  thy  cleft  side,  0 smitten  Saviour  ! hide  me, 

Till  the  calamity  be  overpast. 

Ye  can  not  tempt  me  back  with  pomp  or  pleasure, 

All  in  my  eager  grasp  have  turned  to  dust ; 

The  shield  of  love  around  my  hearth  is  broken, 

How  shall  I place  on  man’s  frail  life  my  trust  ? 

But  my  heart  lingers  when  I pass  the  dwellings, 
Where  children  play  about  the  open  door ; 

And  pleasant  voices  waken  up  the  echoes, 

From  silent  lips  of  those  I see  no  more. 

For  through  their  chambers  swept  the  solemn  warning, 
Arise  ! depart ! for  this  is  not  your  rest ; 

They  folded  their  pale  hands  and  sought  the  presence — 
I only  bore  the  arrow  in  my  breast. 

But  there  is  balm  in  Gilead,  and  a Healer 

Whose  sovereign  power  can  cure  our  every  ill ; 

And  to  the  soul,  more  wildly  tempest  tossing 
Than  ever  Galilee,  say,  Peace,  be  still ! 

42 


HINDER  ME  NOT. 


Who  showing  his  own  name  thereon  engraven, 

With  bleeding  hands  will  draw  the  dart  again, 

And  whisper : “ Should  the  true  disciple  murmur 
To  taste  the  cup  his  Master’s  lip  could  drain  ?” 

And  then  lead  on,  until  we  reach  the  river, 

Which  all  must  cross,  and  some  must  cross  alone  ; 

Oh  ! ye  who  in  the  land  of  peace  are  wearied, 

How  shall  ye  breast  the  Jordan’s  swelling  moan? 

I know  not  if  the  wave  shall  rage  or  slumber, 

When  I shall  stand  upon  the  nearer  shore. 

But  one  whose  form  the  Son  of  God  resembleth, 

Will  cross  with  me,  and  I shall  ask  no  more. 

0 weary  heads  ! rest  on  your  Saviour’s  bosom, 

0 weary  feet ! press  on  the  path  he  trod, 

0 weary  souls  ! your  rest  shall  be  remaining 
When  ye  have  gained  the  city  of  your  God ! 

0 glorious  city ! jasper  built,  and  shining 
With  God’s  own  glory  in  effulgent  light, 

Wherein  no  manner  of  defilement  cometh, 

Nor  any  shadow  flung  from  passing  night. 

Then  shall  ye  pluck  fruits  from  that  tree  immortal, 
And  be  like  gods,  but  find  no  curse  therein. 

There  shall  ye  slake  your  thirst  in  that  full  fountain 
Whose  distant  streams  sufficed  to  cleanse  your  sin. 

There  shall  ye  find  your  dead  in  Christ  arisen, 

And  learn  from  them  to  sing  the  angel’s  song ; 

Well  may  ye  echo  from  earth’s  waiting  prison, 

The  martyr’s  cry : “ How  long,  0 Lord  ! how  long !” 


43 


“I  CLING  TO  THEE.’ 


0 holy  Saviour ! Friend  unseen ! 

Since  on  thine  arm  thou  bidst  me  lean, 
Help  me  through  life’s  varying  scene, 

By  faith  I cling  to  thee. 

Blest  with  this  fellowship  divine, 

Take  what  thou  wilt,  I’ll  ne’er  repine ; 
E’en  as  the  branches  to  the  vine, 

•My  soul  would  cling  to  thee. 

Far  from  her  home,  fatigued,  oppressed, 
Here  has  she  found  her  place  of  rest, 

An  exile  still,  yet  not  unblessed, 

While  she  can  cling  to  thee. 

What  though  the  world  deceitful  prove, 
And  earthly  friends  and  joys  remove, 
With  patient  uncomplaining  love, 

Still  would  I cling  to  thee. 

Though  faith  and  hope  may  long  be  tried, 

1 ask  "not,  need  not  aught  beside  ; 

How  safe,  how  calm,  how  satisfied, 

The  soul  that  clings  to  thee. 

They  fear  not  Satan  nor  the  grave  ; 

They  feel  thee  near,  and  strong  to  save ; 
Nor  dread  to  cross  e’en  Jordan  s wave, 
Because  they  cling  to  thee. 

Blest  is  my  lot— whate’er  befall ; 

What  can  disturb  me— who  appall  ? 

While  as  my  strength,  my  rock,  my  all, 
Saviour  ! I cling  to  thee. 

44 


“ALONE  YET  NOT  ALONE.” 


When  no  kind  earthly  friend  is  near, 

With  gentle  words  my  heart  to  cheer, 

Still  am  I with  my  Saviour  dear ; 

44  Alone,  yet  not  alone.” 


Though  no  loved  forms  my  path  attend, 
With  tender  looks  o’er  me  to  bend, 

Yet  am  I with  my  unseen  Friend ; 

44  Alone,  yet  not  alone.” 

When  sorely  racked  with  pain  and  grief, 
Here  I can  find  a sure  relief ; 

And  I rejoice  in  the  belief: 

44  Alone,  yet  not  alone.” 

’Tis  on  his  strength  that  I rely, 

And  doubts  and  fears  at  once  defy ; 

So  happy,  so  content  am  I, 

44  Alone,  yet  not  alone.” 

E’en  when  with  friends  my  lot  is  cast, 

And  words  of  love  are  flowing  fast, 

Still  am  I when  those  hours  are  past, 

4‘  Alone,  yet  not  alone.” 

If  all  my  earthly  friends  remove, 

My  fondest  wishes  empty  prove, 

Still  am  I with  my  Saviour’s  love, 

44  Alone,  yet  not  alone.” 

Whate’er  may  now  to  me  betide, 

I have  a place  wherein  to  hide  ; 

By  faith,  ’tis  e’en  at  his  blest  side  ; 

44  Alone,  yet  not  alone.” 


45 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  SUFFERING- 


Saviour,  beneath  thy  yoke, 

My  wayward  heart  doth  pine  ; 

All  unaccustomed  to  the  stroke 
Of  love  divine : 

Thy  chastisements,  my  God,  are  hard  to  bear, 

Thy  cross  is  heavy  for  frail  flesh  to  wear. 

“ Perishing  child  of  clay ! 

Thy  sighing  I have  heard  ; 

Long  have  I marked  thy  evil  way, 

How  thou  hast  erred ! 

Yet  fear  not,  by  my  own  most  holy  name 
I will  shed  healing  through  thy  sin-sick  frame.” 

Praise  to  thee,  gracious  Lord  ! 

I fain  would  be  at  rest ; 

Oh  ! now  fulfill  thy  faithful  word 
And  make  me  blest ; 

My  soul  would  lay  her  heavy  burden  down, 

And  take,  with  joyfulness,  the  promised  crown. 

“ Stay,  thou  short-sighted  child  ! 

There  is  much  first  to  do, 

Thy  heart  so  long  by  sin  defiled, 

I must  renew ; 

Thy  will  must  here  be  taught  to  bend  to  mine, 

Or  the  sweet  peace  of  heaven  can  ne’er  be  thine.” 

Yea,  Lord,  but  thou  canst  soon 
Perfect  thy  work  in  me, 

Till  like  the  pure,  calm  summer  noon 
I shine  by  thee  ; 

A moment  shine,  that  all  thy  power  may  trace, 
Then  pass  in  stillness  to  my  heavenly  place. 

“ Ah  ! coward  soul,  confess 

Thou  shrinkest  from  my  cure, 

Thou  tremblest  at  the  sharp  distress 
Thou  must  endure, 

46 


THE  SCHOOL  OF  SUFFERING. 


The  foes  on  every  hand  for  war  arrayed, 

The  thorny  path  in  tribulation  laid. 

The  process  slow  of  years, 

The  discipline  of  life  ; 

Of  outward  woes  and  secret  tears, 

Sickness  and  strife ; 

Thine  idols  taken  from  thee  one  by  one, 

Till  thou  canst  dare  to  live  with  me  alone. 

“ Some  gentle  souls  there  are, 

Who  yield  unto  my  love, 

Who,  ripening  fast  beneath  my  cure, 

I soon  remove ; 

But  thou  stiff-necked  art,  and  hard  to  rule. 

Thou  must  stay  longer  in  affliction’s  school.” 

My  Maker  and  my  King  ! 

Is  this  thy  love  to  me? 

Oh  ! that  I had  the  lightning’s  wing, 

From  earth  to  flee  ; 

How  can  I bear  the  heavy  weight  of  woes 
Thine  indignation  on  the  creature  throws  ? 

“ Thou  canst  not,  0 my  child  ! 

So  hear  my  voice  again  ; 

I will  bear  all  thy  anguish  wild, 

Thy  grief — thy  pain ; 

My  arms  shall  be  around  thee,  day  by  day, 

My  smile  shall  cheer  thee  on  thy  heavenward  way 

“ In  sickness,  I will  be 

Watching  beside  thy  bed, 

In  sorrow  thou  shalt  lean  on  me 
Thy  aching  head ; 

In  every  struggle  thou  shalt  conqueror  prove, 

Nor  death  itself  shall  sever  from  my  love.” 

0 grace  beyond  compare  ! 

0 love  most  high  and  pure  ! 

Saviour  begin,  no  longer  spare, 

I can  endure ; 

Only  vouchsafe  thy  grace,  that  I may  live 
Unto  thy  glory  who  canst  so  forgive. 

47 


THE  PILGRIM’S  WANTS. 


I want  that  adorning  divine, 

Thou,  only,  my  God,  canst  bestow ; 

I want  in  those  beautiful  garments  to  shine, 

Which  distinguish  thy  household  below 

Col.  3 : 12-17. 

I want,  oh  ! I want  to  attain 

Some  likeness,  my  Saviour,  to  thee : 
i That  longed-for  resemblance  once  more  to  regain, 

Thy  comeliness  put  upon  me. 

1 John  3 : 2,  3. 

I want  to  be  marked  for  thy  own  ; 

Thy  seal  on  my  forehead  to  wear ; 

To  receive  that  “new  name”  on  the  mystic  white 
stone, 

Which  only  thyself  canst  declare. 

Kev.  2: 17* 

I want,  every  moment,  to  feel 

That  the  Spirit  does  dwell  in  my  heart ; 

That  his  power  is  present  to  cleanse  and  to  heal. 
And  newness  of  life  to  impart. 

Rom.  8 : 11-16. 

48 


THE  PILGRIM’S  WANTS. 


I want  so  in  thee  to  abide, 

As  to  bring  forth  some  fruit  to  thy  praise ; 

The  branch  that  thou  prunest,  though  feeble  and 
dried, 

May  languish,  but  never  decays. 

John  15  : 2-5. 


I want  thine  own  hand  to  unbind 
Each  tie  to  terrestrial  things, 

Too  tenderly  cherished,  too  closely  entwined, 
Where  my  heart  too  tenaciously  clings. 

1 John  2:15. 


I want,  by  my  aspect  serene, 

My  actions  and  words,  to  declare 
That  my  treasure  is  placed  in  a country  unseen, 
That  my  heart  and  affections  are  there. 

Matt.  6 : 19-21. 


I want,  as  a traveler,  to  haste 

Straight  onward,  nor  pause  on  my  way  ; 

No  forethought  or  anxious  contrivance  to  waste 
On  my  tent,  only  pitched  for  a day. 

Heb.  13  : 5,  6. 

I want  (and  this  sums  up  my  prayer) 

To  glorify  thee  till  I die ; 

Then  calmly  to  yield  up  my  soul  to  thy  care, 

And  breathe  out  in  prayer  my  last  sigh. 

Phil.  3 : 8,  9 


49 


HEAVEN. 


Oh  ! heaven  is  nearer  than  mortals  think, 

When  they  look  with  a trembling  dread 

At  the  misty  future  that  stretches  on, 

From  the  silent  home  of  the  dead. 

’Tis  no  lone  isle  on  a boundless  main, 

No  brilliant  but  distant  shore, 

Where  the  lovely  ones  who  are  called  away 
Must  go  to  return  no  more. 

No,  heaven  is  near  us  ; the  mighty  veil 
Of  mortality  blinds  the  eye, 

That  we  can  not  see  the  angel  bands, 

On  the  shores  of  eternity. 

The  eye  that  shuts  in  a dying  hour 
Will  open  the  next  in  bliss  ; 

The  welcome  will  sound  in  the  heavenly  world, 
Ere  the  farewell  is  hushed  in  this. 

We  pass  from  the  clasp  of  mourning  friends, 

To  the  arms  of  the  loved  and  lost, 

And  those  smiling  faces  will  greet  us  there, 
Which  on  earth  we  have  valued  most. 

Yet  oft  in  the  hours  of  holy  thought, 

To  the  thirsting  soul  is  given 

That  power  to  pierce  through  the  mist  of  sense, 
To  the  beautous  scenes  of  heaven. 

Then  very  near  seem  its  pearly  gates, 

And  sweetly  its  harpings  fall ; 

Till  the  soul  is  restless  to  soar  away, 

And  longs  for  the  angel’s  call. 

I know  when  the  silver  cord  is  loosed, 

When  the  veil  is  rent  away, 

Not  long  and  dark  shall  the  passage  be, 

To  the  realm  of  endless  day. 

50 


A VOICE  FROM  HEAVEN 


I shine  in  the  light  of  God, 

His  image  stamps  my  brow ; 

Through  the  shadows  of  Death  my  feet  have  trod, 
And  I reign  in  glory  now. 

No  breaking  heart  is  here, 

No  keen  and  thrilling  pain, 

No  wasted  cheek,  where  the  burning  tear 
Hath  rolled,  and  left  its  stain. 

I have  found  the  joys  of  heaven, 

I am  one  of  the  angel  band  ; 

To  my  head  a crown  is  given, 

And  a harp  is  in  my  hand  ; 

I have  learned  the  song  they  sing, 

Whom  Jesus  hath  made  free, 

And  the  glorious  walls  of  heaven  still  ring 
With  my  new-born  melody. 

No  sin,  no  grief,  no  pain — 

Safe  in  my  happy  home  ; 

My  fears  all  fled,  my  doubts  all  slain, 

My  hour  of  triumph  come  ; 

0 friends  of  my  mortal  years  ! 

The  trusted  and  the  true, 

You’re  walking  still  the  vale  of  tears, 

But  I wait  to  welcome  you. 

51 


A VOICE  FROM  TIE  A VEX. 


Do  I forget  ? Oh  ! no, 

For  memory’s  golden  chain 
Shall  bind  my  heart  to  the  hearts  below, 
Till  they  meet  and  touch  again  ; 

Each  link  is  strong  and  bright, 

While  love’s  electric  flame 
Flows  freely  down,  like  a river  of  light, 
To  the  world  from  whence  I came. 

Do  you  mourn  when  another  star 
Shines  out  from  the  glorious  sky  ? 

Do  you  weep  when  the  voice  of  war 
And  the  rage  of  conflict  die  ? 

Why  then  should  your  tears  roll  down, 
Or  your  heart  be  sorely  riven, 

For  another  gem  in  the  Saviour’s  crown, 
• And  another  soul  in  heaven  ? 

52 


1 


SUPPLICATION. 


Lord,  hear  my  prayer  ! 

Turn  not  thine  ear  from  my  distress, 

But  with  thy  loving  mercy  bless, 

Lest  I despair. 

Be  gracious,  Lord ! 

My  soul  is  oft  opprest  and  weak ; 

Oh  ! aid  me  when  I comfort  seek 
In  thy  blest  word. 

My  footsteps  stray ; 

I wander  often  from  the  road 
That  leads  to  peace  and  thee  my  God  ; 
Teach  thou  the  way. 

Oh  ! make  me  pure, 

Clothe  thou  my  soul  in  spotless  white, 

That  my  acceptance  in  thy  sight, 

Be  always  sure. 

Let  me  be  one 
Of  all  the  sinless  company 
That  round  thy  throne  hosannahs  sing, 
Through  Christ  thy  Son. 

Thy  will  be  done 
On  earth,  as  by  each  holy  one, 

Thy  own  redeemed,  who  near  thy  throne, 
Bow  down  the  knee  ! 

R N. 


53 


EVENING  PRAYER. 


Father  of  mercy  ! at  the  close  of  day, 

My  work  and  duties  done,  to  thee  I pray 
Before  I sleep ; 

With  clasped  hands  I humbly  bow  my  head, 

And  ask  thee,  Lord,  ere  I retire  to  bed, 

My  soul  to  keep. 

The  sins  and  failings  of  the  day  now  past, 

The  shadows  on  my  soul  that  they  have  cast, 

Do  thou  forgive  ; 

Oh  ! purge  my  life  from  every  taint  of  sin, 

That  I within  thy  courts  may  enter  in, 

With  thee  to  live. 

Vyhatever  sorrow  I this  day  have  known, 

I spread  it  now,  0 Lord  ! before  thy  throne — - 
Oh ! succor  send  ; 

I would  beneath  thy  chastening  hand  be  still, 

And  meekly  bow  before  thy  sovereign  will, 

Unto  the  end. 

And  now  with  folded  hand  upon  my  breast, 

At  peace  with  thee,  I lay  me  down  to  rest 
Upon  my  bed ; 

May  angels  guard  me  through  the  darksome  night, 
From  troubled  dreams,  until  the  morning  light 
Its  beams  shall  shed. 

R N. 


54 


THE  WANDERING  HEART. 


Alas  ! for  the  wildly  wandering  heart, 

And  its  changing  idol  guests, 

It  has  roamed  away  to  the  world’s  far  ends 
At  the  vagrant  wind’s  behests  ; 

More  fleet  in  its  course  than  the  flying  dart — 

Alas  ! for  the  wandering  heart. 

Go,  bind  it  with  memory’s  holiest  spells, 

But  it  recks  not  the  things  of  old  ; 

Go,  chain  it  in  gratitude’s  surest  cells, 

With  fetters  more  precious  than  gold  ; 

Yet  ever,  oh  ! ever,  it  will  depart — 

Alas ! for  the  wandering  heart. 

Is  it  gone  up  to  listen  at  heaven’s  gate, 

To  Gabriel’s  lyre  of  praise  ? 

And  to  catch  the  deep  chanting  where  seraphs  wait, 
As  a lesson  for  its  mortal  lays  ? 

Oh  ! no,  for  it  loves  from  such  lessons  to  part — 

Alas  ! for  the  wandering  heart. 

It  loves  on  a worthless  and  treacherous  world 
To  bestow  its  high  desires, 

And  the  lamp  which  it  ought  to  be  lighting  in  heaven 
It  kindles  at  idol  fires  ; 

Full  seldom  it  turns  to  its  guiding  chart — 

Alas  ! for  the  wandering  heart. 

It  needs  to  be  steeped  in  the  briny  wave 
Of  affliction’s  billowy  sea, 

And  salt  tears  must  water  its  way  to  the  grave, 

Ere  it  will  from  these  vanities  flee  ; 

It  must  ever  be  feeling  the  chastening  smart — 

Alas  ! for  the  wandering  heart. 

My  Father  ! my  Father  ! this  heart  would  be  thine ! 
Restore  from  its  wanderings  ; 

Oh  ! visit  and  nourish  thy  wilderness  vine, 

Though  it  be  from  the  bitter  springs  : 

Till  the  years  of  its  pruning  in  time  shall  be  o’er, 

And  its  shoots  in  eternity  wander  no  more ! 

55 


“ RETURN  TIIEE  TO  THY  REST.” 


Return,  return  thee  to  thine  only  rest, 

Lone  pilgrim  of  the  world ! 

Far  erring  from  the  fold — 

By  the  dark  night  and  risen  storms  distressed : 

List,  weary  lamb,  the  Shepherd’s  anxious  voice, 
And  once  again  within  his  arms  rejoice. 

Return,  return,  thy  fair  white  fleece  is  soiled 
And  by  sharp  briers  rent — 

Thy  little  strength  is  spent ; 

Yet  he  will  pity  thee,  thou  torn  and  spoiled. 

There,  thou  art  cradled  on  his  tender  breast ; 

Now  never  more,  sweet  lamb,  forsake  that  rest. 

Return,  return,  my  soul ; be  like  this  lamb  ; 

Yet  can  it,  can  it  be 

That  thou  should’st  pardon  me, 

Thou  injured  love  ! all  ingrate  as  I am  ; 

Once  again,  w'eary  of  earth’s  trifling  things, 

False  as  the  desert’s  far  and  shining  springs  ? 

Return,  return  to  thy  forsaken  Friend, 

So  long  despised,  forgot — 

That  now  thou  wandering  heart,  ’twere  just 
If  he  should  “ know  thee  not 
Yet  on,  press  on,  towards  the  mercy-seat, 

And  if  thou  perish,  perish  at  his  feet. 

Return,  return,  for  he  is  near  thee  dwelling, 

And  not  into  the  air 

Need  rise  the  sighs  of  prayer ; 

Into  his  ear  thou’rt  all  thy  sorrows  telling ; 

Thou  need’st  not  speak  to  him  through  spaces  wide 
For  he  is  near  thee,  even  at  thy  side. 

“ Him  have  I pierced” — oh ! I come,  I come ; 

My  heart  is  broken,  Lord, 

It  needs  nor  voice  nor  word  ; 

One  only  look  brought  Peter  back  of  yore  ; 

How  bitterly  I weep  as  then  he  wept ! 

Henceforth,  oh ! keep  me,  and  I shall  be  kept. 

56 


NEAR  JESUS 


I want  to  live  near  Jesus, 

And  never  go  astray, 

To  feel  that  I am  growing 
More  like  Him  every  day  ; 

That  I am  always  laying 
My  treasure  up  above, 

And  gaining  more  the  spirit 
Of  His  gentleness  and  love. 

I want  such  steadfast  purpose 
My  mission  to  fulfill, 

That  it  may  be  my  meat  and  drink, 
To  do  my  Father’s  will, 

To  follow  in  His  footsteps, 

Who  never  turned  aside 
From  the  path  that  leads  to  Heaven 
Though  often  sorely  tried. 

Oh  ! that  in  His  humility 
My  spirit  may  be  clad  ! 

That  I may  have  the  patience 
My  suffering  Saviour  had, 

A heart  more  disengaged 

From  earth  and  earthly  things, 
Which  through  life’s  varied  trials 
To  Jesus  simply  clings. 

Oh  ! I shall  live  near  Jesus 
And  never  go  astray, 

And  every  sin-defiling  stain 
Shall  soon  be  washed  away ; 

And  I’ll  bear  my  Master’s  image 
When  I see  Him  face  to  face, 
Then  earth  shall  lose  the  power 
Its  brightness  to  deface. 


57 


WHO  IS  MY  BROTHER? 


Must  I my  brother  keep, 

And  share  his  pains  and  toil, 

And  weep  with  those  that  weep, 

And  smile  with  those  that  smile  ; 
And  act  to  each  a brother’s  part, 
And  feel  his  sorrows  in  my  heart  ? 

Must  I his  burden  bear, 

As  though  it  were  my  own, 

And  do  as  I would  care 
Should  to  myself  be  done, 

And  faithful  to  his  interests  prove, 
And  as  myself  my  neighbor  love  ? 

Must  I reprove  his  sin, 

Must  I partake  his  grief, 

And  kindly  enter  in 
And  minister  relief — 

The  naked  clothe,  the  hungry  feed, 
And  love  him  not  in  word,  but  deed 

Then,  Jesus,  at  thy  feet 
A student  let  me  be, 

And  learn,  as  it  is  meet, 

My  duty,  Lord,  of  thee  ; 

For  thou  didst  come  on  mercy’s  plan 
And  all  thy  life  was  love  to  man. 

Oh  ! make  me  as  thou  art, 

Thy  spirit,  Lord,  bestow — 

The  kind  and  gentle  heart 
That  feels  another’s  woe, 

That  thus  I may  be  like  my  Head, 
And  in  my  Saviour’s  footsteps  tread 

58 


PILGRIM  OF  EARTH. 


Pilgrim  of  earth,  who  art  journeying  to  heaven! 

Heir  of  Eternal  Life  ! Child  of  the  day  ! 

Cared  for,  watched  over,  beloved  and  forgiven — 
Art  thou  discouraged  because  of  the  way  ? 

Cared  for,  watched  over,  though  often  thou  seemest 
Justly  forsaken,  nor  counted  a child  ; 

Loved  and  forgiven,  though  rightly  thou  deemest 
Thyself  all  unlovely,  impure,  and  defiled. 

Weary  and  thirsty — no  water-brook  near  thee, 

Press  on,  nor  faint  at  the  length  of  the  way. 

The  God  of  thy  life  will  assuredly  hear  thee — 

He  will  provide  thee  strength  for  the  day. 

Break  through  the  brambles  and  briers  that  obstruct 
thee, 

Dread  not  the  gloom  and  the  blackness  of  night, 
Lean  on  the  hand  that  will  safely  conduct  thee, 

Trust  to  His  eye  to  whom  darkness  is  light. 

Be  trustful,  be  steadfast,  whatever  betide  thee, 

Only  one  thing  do  thou  ask  of  the  Lord — 

Grace  to  go  forward  wherever  He  guide  thee, 

Simply  believing  the  truth  of  His  word. 


59 


PILGRIM  OF  EARTH. 


Still  on  thy  spirit  deep  anguish  is  pressing, 

Not  for  the  yoke  that  His  wisdom  bestows  : 

A heavier  burden  thy  soul  is  distressing, 

A heart  that  is  slow  in  His  love  to  repose. 

Earthliness,  coldness,  unthankful  behavior — 

Ah ! thou  mayest  sorrow,  but  do  not  despair ; 
Even  this  grief  thou  mayest  bring  to  thy  Saviour ; 
Cast  upon  Him  e’en  this  burden  and  care  ! 

Bring  all  thy  hardness — His  power  can  subdue  it ; 
How  full  is  the  promise  ! The  blessing  how  free  ! 
“ Whatsoever  ye  ask,  in  my  name,  I will  do  it, 

Abide  in  my  love,  and  be  joyful  in  me.” 


“WHAT  IS  THIS  THAT  HE  SAITH  — A LITTLE 
WHILE.— John  16  : 18. 


Oh  ! for  the  peace  which  floweth  as  a river, 

Making  Life’s  desert-places  bloom  and  smile. 

Oh  ! for  a faith  to  grasp  Heaven’s  bright  “ forever,” 
Amid  the  shadows  of  Earth’s  44  little  while.” 

44  A little  while”  for  patient  vigil-keeping, 

To  face  the  storm,  to  wrestle  with  the  strong ; 

44  A little  while”  to  sow  the  seed  with  weeping, 

Then  bind  the  sheaves  and  sing  the  harvest-song 


60 


A LITTLE  WHILE. 


“ A little  while”  to  wear  the  robe  of  sadness, 

To  toil  with  weary  step  through  erring  ways  ; 

Then  to  pour  forth  the  fragrant  oil  of  gladness, 

And  clasp  the  girdle  of  the  robe  of  praise. 

“ A little  while”  ’mid  shadow  and  illusion 

To  strive  by  faith  Love’s  mysteries  to  spell ; 

Then  read  each  dark  enigma’s  clear  solution, 

Then  hail  Light’s  verdict — “ He  doth  all  things  well.” 

“ A little  while”  the  earthen  pitcher  taking 

To  wayside  brooks  from  far-off  fountains  fed  ; 

Then  the  parched  lip  its  thirst  forever  slaking 
Beside  the  fullness  of  the  Fountain  Head. 

“ A little  while”  to  keep  the  oil  from  failing ; 

“ A little  while”  Faith’s  flickering  lamp  to  trim  : 

And  then  the  Bridegroom’s  coming  footstep  hailing, 

To  haste  to  meet  him  with  the  bridal  hymn. 

And  He  who  is  at  once  both  Gift  and  Giver, 

The  future  Glory,  and  the  present  smile, 

With  the  bright  promise  of  the  glad  “ forever,” 

Will  light  the  shadows  of  the  “ little  while.” 


61 


IN  HEAVEN. 


“ Their  angels  do  always  behold  the  face  of  my  Father.” 


Silence  filled  the  courts  of  Heaven, 

Hushed  were  seraphs’  harp  and  tone, 

When  a little  new-born  seraph 
Knelt  before  the  Eternal  Throne ; 

While  its  soft  white  hands  were  lifted, 

Clasped  as  if  in  earnest  prayer, 

And  its  voice  in  dove-like  murmurs 
Rose  like  music  on  the  ear. 

Light  from  the  full  fount  of  Glory 
On  his  robes  of  whiteness  glistened, 

And  the  bright-winged  seraphs  near  him 
Bowed  their  radiant  heads  and  listened. 

“ Lord  from  Thy  Throne  of  Glory  here 
My  heart  turns  fondly  to  another, 

0 Lord,  our  God,  the  Comforter ! 

Comfort,  comfort,  my  sweet  Mother  ! 

Many  sorrows  hast  Thou  sent  her, 

Meekly  has  she  drained  the  cup, 

And  the  jewels  Thou  hast  lent  her 
Unrepining  yielded  up. 

Comfort,  comfort,  my  sweet  Mother  ! 


62 


IN  HEAVEN. 


44  Earth  is  growing  lonely  round  her ; 

Friend  and  lover  hast  Thou  taken ; 

Let  her  not  though  woes  surround  her, 

Feel  herself  by  Thee  forsaken, 

Let  her  think  when  faint  and  weary 
We  are  waiting  for  her  here  : 

Let  each  loss  that  makes  earth  dreary 
Make  the  hope  of  Heaven  more  dear. 

Comfort,  comfort,  my  sweet  Mother  1 


44  Thou  who  once  in  nature  human, 

Dwelt  on  earth  a little  child, 

Pillowed  on  the  breast  of  Woman, 

Blessed  Mary ! undefiled. 

Thou  who  from  the  cross  of  suffering, 

Marked  Thy  Mother’s  tearful  face, 

And  bequeathed  her  to  Thy  loved  one, 
Bidding  him  to  fill  Thy  place. 

Comfort,  comfort,  my  sweet  Mother  I 


44  Thou  who  once  from  Heaven  descending 
Tears  and  woes  and  conflicts  won, 

Thou  who  nature’s  laws  suspending 
Gav’st  the  widow  back  her  son, 

Thou  who  at  the  grave  of  Lazarus 
Wept  with  those  who  wept  their  dead, 
Thou  ! who  once  in  mortal  anguish 
Bowed  Thine  own  anointed  head. 

Comfort,  comfort,  my  sweet  Mother  P* 


63 


IN  HEAYEN. 


The  dove-like  murmurs  died  away 
Upon  the  radiant  air, 

But  still  the  little  suppliant  knelt 
With  hands  still  clasped  in  prayer  ; 
Still  were  those  mildly  pleading  eyes 
Turned  to  the  sapphire  throne, 

Till  golden  harp  and  angel  voice 
Rang  forth  in  mingled  tone, 

And  as  the  swelling  numbers  flowed 
By  angel  voices  given, 

Rich,  sweet,  and  clear,  the  anthem  roiled 
Through  all  the  courts  of  Heaven. 

“ He  is  the  widow’s  God,”  it  said, 

Who  spared  not  “ His  own  Son.” 

The  infant  cherub  bowed  his  head 
“ Thy  will,  0 Lord  ! be  done.” 


64 


“IT  IS  I;  BE  NOT  AFRAID. 

MATTHEW  14 : 27. 

Tossed  with  rough  winds,  and  faint  with  fear, 
Above  the  tempest,  soft  and  clear, 

What  still  small  accents  greet  mine  ear  ? 

“ ’Tis  I ; be  not  afraid. 

“’Tis  I,  who  led  thy  steps  aright; 

’Tis  I,  who  gave  thy  blind  eyes  sight ; 

Tis  I,  thy  Lord,  thy  Life,  thy  Light : 

’Tis  I ; be  not  afraid. 

‘‘These  raging  winds,  this  surging  sea, 

Bear  not  a breath  of  wrath  to  thee  ; 

That  storm  has  all  been  spent  on  Me : 

’Tis  I ; be  not  afraid. 

“ This  bitter  cup  fear  not  to  drink  ; 

I know  it  well — oh  ! do  not  shrink, 

I tasted  it  o’er  Kedron’s  brink, 

’Tis  I ; be  not  afraid. 

“ Mine  eyes  are  watching  by  thy  bed, 

Mine  arms  are  underneath  thy  head, 

My  blessing  is  around  thee  shed : 

’Tis  I ; be  not  afraid. 


65 


IT  IS  I ; BE  NOT  AFKAID. 


“ When  on  the  other  side  thy  feet 
Shall  rest  ’mid  thousand  welcomes  sweet, 
One  well-known  voice  thy  heart  shall  greet ; 

’Tis  I;  be  not  afraid.” 

From  out  the  dazzling  majesty, 

Gently  He’ll  lay  His  hand  on  thee, 
Whispering : “ Beloved,  lov’st  thou  me  ? 
’Twas  not  in  vain  I died  for  thee  ; 

’Tis  I ; be  not  afraid.” 


NATURE  AND  FAITH. 


2 Cor.  4 : 17,  18. 

We  wept — ’twas  Nature  wept,  but  Faith 
Can  pierce  beyond  the  gloom  of  death. 

And  in  yon  world  so  fair  and  bright 
Behold  thee  in  refulgent  light ! 

We  miss  thee  here,  yet  Faith  would  rather 
Know  thou  art  with  thy  heavenly  Father. 
Nature  sees  the  body  dead — 

Faith  beholds  the  spirit  fled  ; 

Nature  stops  at  Jordan’s  tide — 

Faith  beholds  the  other  side  ; 

That  but  hears  farewell  and  sighs, 
This , thy  welcome  in  the  skies ; 


66 


NATURE  AND  FAITII. 


Nature  mourns  a cruel  blow— 

Faith  assures  it  is  not  so  ; 

Nature  never  sees  thee  more — 

Faith  but  sees  thee  gone  before  ; 

Nature  tells  a dismal  story — 

Faith  has  visions  full  of  glory  ; 

Nature  views  the  change  with  sadness — 
Faith  contemplates  it  with  gladness ; 

Nature  murmurs — Faith  gives  meekness, 

“ Strength  is  perfected  in  weakness 
Nature  writhes,  and  hates  the  rod — 

Faith  looks  up  and  blesses  God  ; 

Sense  looks  downwards — Faith  above  ; 

That  sees  harshness — this  sees  love. 

Oh  ! let  Faith  victorious  be — 

Let  it  reign  triumphantly  ! 

But  thou  art  gone  ! not  lost,  but  flown, 

Shall  I then  ask  thee  back,  my  own  ? 

Back — and  leave  thy  spirit’s  brightness  ? 
Back — and  leave  thy  robes  of  whiteness  ? 
Back — and  leave  thine  angel  mould  ? 

Back — and  leave  those  streets  of  gold  ? 

Back — and  leave  the  Lamb  who  feeds  thee  ? 
Back — from  founts  to  which  He  leads  thee  ? 
Back — and  leave  thy  Heavenly  Father  ? 
Back — to  earth  and  sin  ? — Nay  rather 
Would  I live  in  solitude  ! 

I would  not  ask  thee  if  I could  ; 

But  patient  wait  the  high  decree, 

That  calls  my  spirit  home  to  thee ! 


67 


MY  LAMBS. 


I loved  them  so, 

That  when  the  elder  Shepherd  of  the  fold 
Came,  covered  with  the  storm,  and  pale  and  cold, 
And  begged  for  one  of  my  sweet  lambs  to  hold, 

I bade  him  go. 

He  claimed  the  pet ; 

A little  fondling  thing,  that  to  my  breast 
Clung  always,  either  in  quiet  or  unrest ; 

I thought  of  all  my  lambs  I loved  him  best, 

And  yet — and  yet — 

I laid  him  down, 

In  those  white,  shrouded  arms,  with  bitter  tears ; 
For  some  voice  told  me  that,  in  after-years, 

He  should  know  naught  of  passion,  grief,  or  fears, 
As  I had  known. 

And  yet  again 

That  elder  Shepherd  came ; my  heart  grew  faint ; 
He  claimed  another  lamb,  with  sadder  plaint, 
Another ! She  who,  gentle  as  a saint, 

Ne’er  gave  me  pain. 

Aghast  I turned  away  ; 

There  sat  she,  lovely  as  an  angel’s  dream, 

Her  golden  locks  with  sunlight  all  agleam, 

Her  holy  eyes  with  heaven  in  their  beam  : 

I knelt  to  pray : 

“Is  it  thy  will ? 

My  Father,  say,  must  this  pet  lamb  be  given  ? 

Oh  ! thou  hast  many  such,  dear  Lord,  in  heaven 
And  a soft  voice  said:  “Nobly  hast  thou  striven; 
But — peace,  be  still.” 

63 


MY  LAMBS. 


Oh ! how  I wept, 

And  clasped  her  to  my  bosom,  with  a wild 
And  yearning  love— my  lamb,  my  pleasant  child  : 
Her,  too,  I gave  ; the  little  angel  smiled, 

And  slept. 

“ Go  ! go  !”  I cried  : 

For  once,  again,  that  Shepherd  laid  his  hand 
Upon  the  noblest  of  our  household  band  : 

Like  a pale  spectre,  there  he  took  his  stand, 

Close  to  his  side. 

And  yet  how  wondrous  sweet 
The  look  with  which  h$  heard  my  passionate  cry : 
u Touch  not  my  lamb  ; for  him  oh  ! let  me  die !” 

“ A little  while,”  he  said,  with  smile  and  sigh, 

“ Again  to  meet.” 

Hopeless  I fell ; 

And  when  I rose,  the  light  had  burned  so  low, 

So  faint,  I could  not  see  my  darling  go : 

He  had  not  bidden  me  farewell ; but  oh ! 

I felt  farewell 

More  deeply,  far, 

Than  if  my  arms  had  compassed  that  slight  frame ; 
Though  could  I but  have  heard  him  call  my  name — 
<<  r)ear°mother” — but  in  heaven  ’twill  be  the  same  ; 
There  burns  my  star ! 

He  will  not  take 

Another  lamb,  I thought,  for  only  one 
Of  the  dear  fold  is  spared  to  bemy  sun, 

My  guide,  my  mourner  when  this  life  is  done ; 

My  heart  would  break. 

Oh  ! with  that  thrill 
I heard  him  enter ; but  I did  not  know 
(For  it  was  dark)  that  he  had  robbed  me  so  ; 

The  idol  of  my  soul !— he  could  not  go— 

0 heart ! be  still ! 

G9 


MY  LAMBS. 


Came  morning  : can  I tell 
How  this  poor  frame  its  sorrowful  tenant  kept  ? 
For  waking  tears  were  mine ; I,  sleeping,  wept, 
And  days,  months,  years,  that  weary  vigil  kept. 
Alas!  “Farewell.” 


How  often  it  is  said ! 

I sit  and  think,  and  wonder  too,  sometime, 

How  it  will  seem  when  in  that  happier  clime, 

It  never  will  ring  out  like  funeral  chime 
Over  the  dead. 

No  tears ! no  tears  ! 

Will  there  a day  come  that  I shall  not  weep? 

For  I bedew  my  pillow  in  my  sleep. 

Yes,  yes  ; thank  God  ! no  grief  that  clime  shall  keep— ■ 
No  weary  years. 

Ay ! it  is  well ! 

Well  with  my  lambs,  and  with  their  earthly  guide : 
There,  pleasant  rivers  wander  they  beside, 

Or  strike  sweet  harps  upon  its  silver  tide — 

Ay  ! it  is  well. 

Through  the  dreary  day 
They  often  come  from  glorious  light  to  me ; 

I cannot  feel  their  touch,  their  faces  see, 

Yet  my  soul  whispers,  they  do  come  to  me ; 

Heaven  is  not  far  away. 


70 


THE  CALL. 


Thy  night  is  dark  ; behold,  the  shade  was  deeper 
In  the  old  garden  of  Gethsemane, 

When  that  calm  voice  awoke  the  weary  sleeper : 

“ Could’st  thou  not  watch  one  hour  alone  with  me  V” 

0 thou,  so  weary  of  thy  self-denials  ! 

And  so  impatient  of  thy  little  cross, 

Is  it  so  hard  to  bear  thy  daily  trials, 

To  count  all  earthly  things  a gainful  loss  ? 

What  if  thou  always  suffer  tribulation, 

And  if  thy  Christian  warfare  never  cease  ; 

The  gaining  of  the  quiet  habitation 
Shall  gather  thee  to  everlasting  peace. 

But  here  we  all  must  suffer,  walking  lonely 
The  path  that  Jesus  once  himself  hath  gone  : 

Watch  thou  in  patience  through  the  dark  hour  only, 
This  one  dark  hour — before  the  eternal  dawn. 

The  captive’s  oar  may  pause  upon  the  galley, 

The  soldier  sleep  beneath  his  plumed  crest, 

And  Peace  may  fold  her  wing  o’er  hill  and  valley, 

But  thou,  0 Christian  ! must  not  take  thy  rest. 

Thou  must  walk  on,  however  man  upbraid  thee, 

With  Him  who  trod  the  wine-press  all  alone  ; 

Thou  wilt  not  find  one  human  hand  to  aid  thee, 

One  human  soul  to  comprehend  thine  own. 

VI 


THE  CALL. 


Heed  not  the  images  forever  thronging 
From  out  the  foregone  life  thou  liv’st  no  more ; 

Faint-hearted  mariner  ! still  art  thou  longing 
For  the  dim  line  of  the  receding  shore. 

Wilt  thou  find  rest  of  soul  in  thy  returning 
To  that  old  path  thou  hast  so  vainly  trod  ? 

Hast  thou  forgotten  all  thy  weary  yearning 
To  walk  among  the  children  of  thy  God  ? 

Faithful  and  steadfast  in  their  consecration, 

Living  by  that  high  faith  to  thee  so  dim, 

Declaring  before  God  their  dedication, 

So  far  from  thee  because  so  near  to  him  ? 

Canst  thou  forget  thy  Christian  superscription, 

“ Behold,  we  count  them  happy  which  endure  ?” 

What  treasure  wouldst  thou,  in  the  land  Egyptian, 
Bepass  the  stormy  water  to  secure  ? 

And  wilt  thou  yield  thy  sure  and  glorious  promise 
For  the  poor  fleeting  joys  earth  can  afford? 

No  hand  can  take  away  the  treasure  from  us 
That  rests  within  the  keeping  of  the  Lord. 

Poor,  wandering  soul ! I know  that  thou  art  seeking 
Some  easier  way,  as  all  have  sought  before, 

To  silence  the  reproachful  inward  speaking — 

Some  landward  path  unto  an  island  shore. 

The  cross  is  heavy  in  thy  human  measure  ; 

The  way  too  narrow  for  thine  inward  pride  ; 

Thou  canst  not  lay  thine  intellectual  treasure 
At  the  low  footstool  of  the  Crucified. 

72 


THE  CALL. 


Oh  ! that  thy  faithless  soul,  one  great  hour  only, 
Would  comprehend  the  Christian’s  perfect  life  ; 

Despised  with  Jesus,  sorrowful  and  lonely, 

Yet  calmly  looking  upward  in  its  strife. 

For  poverty  and  self-renunciation, 

The  Father  yieldeth  back  a thousand-fold; 

In  the  calm  stillness  of  regeneration 
Cometh  a joy  we  never  knew  of  old. 

In  meek  obedience  to  the  heavenly  Teacher, 

Thy  weary  soul  can  find  its  only  peace ; 

Seeking  no  aid  from  any  human  creature — 
Looking  to  God  alone  for  his  release. 

And  he  will  come  in  his  own  time  and  power 
To  set  his  earnest-hearted  children  free  : 

Watch  only  through  this  dark  and  painful  hour, 
And  the  bright  morning  yet  will  break  for  thee. 
73 


GOD’S  ANVIL. 


Pain’s  furnace-heat  within  me  quivers, 
God’s  breath  upon  the  fire  doth  blow, 
And  all  my  heart  in  anguish  shivers, 

And  trembles  at  the  fiery  glow ; 

And  yet  I whisper,  “ As  God  will  !” 

And  in  his  hottest  fire  hold  still. 

He  comes,  and  lays  my  heart  all  heated 
On  the  bare  anvil,  minded  so 
Into  his  own  fair  shape  to  beat  it 

With  his  great  hammer,  blow  on  blow ; 
And  yet  I whisper,  “ As  God  will !” 

And  at  his  heaviest  blows  hold  still. 

He  takes  my  softened  heart  and  beats  it ; 

The  sparks  fly  off  at  every  blow ; 

He  turns  it  o’er  and  o’er,  and  heats  it, 
And  lets  it  cool,  and  makes  it  glow. 
And  yet  I whisper,  “ As  God  will !” 

And  in  his  mighty  hand  hold  still. 

Why  should  I murmur  ? for  the  sorrow 
Thus  only  longer-lived  would  be  ; 

Its  end  may  come,  and  will  to-morrow, 
When  God  has  done  his  work  in  me. 
So  I say  trusting,  “ As  God  will !” 

And  trusting  to  the  end,  hold  still. 

74 


GOD  S ANVIL. 


He  kindles  for  my  profit  purely, 
Affliction’s  glowing,  fiery  brand  ; 
And  all  his  heaviest  blows  are  surely 
Inflicted  by  a master-hand. 

So  I say  praying,  “ As  God  will !” 
And  hope  in  him  and  suffer  still. 


THE  CROSS  AND  CROWN. 


Must  Jesus  bear  the  cross  alone, 

And  all  the  world  go  free  ? 

No ; there’s  a cross  for  every  one ; 

And  there’s  a cross  for  me. 

How  happy  are  the  saints  above, 

Who  once  went  sorrowing  here  ; 

But  now  they  taste  unmingled  love 
And  joy  without  a tear. 

The  consecrated  cross  I’ll  bear, 

Till  death  shall  set  me  free ; 

And  then  go  home  my  crown  to  wear, 

For  there’s  a crown  for  me. 

Upon  the  crystal  pavement  down, 

At  Jesus’  pierced  feet, 

Joyful  I’ll  cast  my  golden  crown, 

And  his  dear  name  repeat. 

And  palms  shall  wave  and  harps  shall  ring 
Beneath  heaven’s  arches  high  ; 

The  Lord  that  lives,  the  ransomed  sing, 
That  lives  no  more  to  die. 

75 


EVEN  ME. 


Lord  ! I hear  of  showers  of  blessing 
Thou  art  scattering  full  and  free, 
Showers  the  thirsty  soul  refreshing  — 
Let  some  droppings  fall  on  me, 

Even  me. 

Pass  me  not,  0 gracious  Father! 

Lost  and  sinful  though  I be ; 

Thou  mightst  curse  me,  but  the  rather 
Let  thy  mercy  light  on  me, 

Even  me. 

Pass  me  not,  0 tender  Saviour  ! 

Let  me  love  and  cling  to  thee ; 

I am  longing  for  thy  favor  ; 

When  thou  comest,  call  for  me, 

Even  me. 

Pass  me  not,  0 mighty  Spirit ! 

Thou  canst  make  the  blind  to  see ; 
Testify  of  Jesus’  merit, 

Speak  the  word  of  peace  to  me, 

Even  me. 

Have  I long  in  sin  been  sleeping, 

Long  been  slighting,  grieving  thee  ? 
Has  the  world  my  heart  been  keeping? 
Oh  ! forgive  and  rescue  me, 

Even  me. 

76 


EVEN  ME. 


Love  of  God ! so  pure  and  changeless  ; 

Blood  of  God ! so  rich  and  free  ; 

Grace  of  God  ! so  strong  and  boundless. 
Magnify  it  all  in  me, 

Even  me. 

Pass  me  not,  almighty  Spirit ! 

Draw  this  lifeless  heart  to  thee  ; 
Impute  to  me  the  Saviour’s  merit, 
Blessing  others,  oh ! bless  me, 

Even  me. 


Oil!  MY  SAVIOUR  CRUCIFIED. 


Oh  ! my  Saviour  crucified, 

Near  thy  cross  may  I abide  ; 

There  to  gaze  with  steadfast  eye 
On  thy  dying  agony. 

Jesus,  bruised  and  put  to  shame, 
Tells  me  all  the  Father’s  name  ; 
God  is  love,  I surely  know, 

By  my  Saviour’s  depths  of  woe  ! 

In  his  sinless  soul’s  distress, 

I behold  my  guiltiness ; 

Oh  ! how  vile  my  low  estate 
Since  my  ransom  was  so  great. 

Dwelling  on  Mount  Calvary, 
Contrite  shall  my  spirit  be, 

Rest  and  holiness  shall  find, 
Fashioned  like  my  Saviour’s  mind. 

77 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD 


W e ask  for  peace,  0 Lord 
Thy  children  ask  thy  peace  ; 

Not  what  the  world  calls  rest, 

That  toil  and  care  should  cease  ; 

That  through  bright  sunny  hours, 

Calm  life  should  fleet  away, 

And  tranquil  night  should  fade 
In  smiling  day. 

It  is  not  for  such  peace  that  we  would  pray. 

W e ask  for  peace,  0 Lord ! 

Yet  not  to  stand  secure, 

Girt  round  with  iron  pride, 

Contented  to  endure ; 

Crushing  the  gentle  strings 

That  human  hearts  should  know ; 

Untouched  by  others’ joys 
Or  others’  woe. 

Thou,  0 dear  Lord  ! wilt  never  teach  us  so. 

We  ask  thy  peace,  0 Lord  ! 

Through  storm  and  fear  and  strife, 

To  light  and  guide  us  on, 

Through  a long,  struggling  life  ; 

While  no  success  or  gain 

Shall  cheer  the  desperate  fight, 

Or  nerve  what  the  world  calls 
Our  wasted  might ; 

Yet  pressing  through  the  darkness  to  the  light. 

78 


THE  PEACE  OF  GOD. 


It  is  thine  own,  0 Lord  ! 

Who  toil  while  others  sleep ; 

Who  sow  with  living  care, 

What  other  hands  shall  reap  ; 

They  lean  on  thee  entranced 
In  calm  and  perfect  rest ; 

Give  us  that  peace,  0 Lord  ! 

Divine  and  blest, 

Thou  keepest  for  those  hearts  that  love  thee  best. 


PEACE. 


Life’s  mystery,  deep,  restless  as  the  ocean, 

Hath  surged  and  wailed  for  ages  to  and  fro ; 
Earth’s  generations  watch  its  ceaseless  motion, 

As  in  and  out  its  hollow  moanings  flow. 
Shivering  and  yearning  by  that  unknown  sea, 

Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  0 God  ! in  thee. 

Life’s  sorrows,  with  inexorable  power, 

Sweep  desolation  o’er  this  mortal  plain  ; 

And  human  loves  and  hopes  fly  as  the  chaff, 

Borne  by  the  whirlwind,  from  the  ripened  grain. 
Oh ! when  before  that  blast  my  hopes  all  flee, 

Let  my  soul  calm  itself,  0 Christ ! in  thee. 

Between  the  mysteries  of  death  and  life 

Thou  standest,  loving,  guiding,  not  explaining ; 

1 9 


PEACE. 


We  ask,  and  thou  art  silent ; yet  we  gaze, 

And  our  charmed  hearts  forget  their  drear  complaining. 
No  crushing  fate,  no  stony  destiny, 

Thou  “ Lamb  that  hath  been  slain,”  we  rest  in  thee. 

The  many  waves  of  thought,  the  mighty  tides, 

The  ground-swell  that  rolls  up  from  other  lands, 

From  far-off  worlds,  from  dim,  eternal  shores, 

Whose  echo  dashes  o’er  life’s  wave-worn  strands ; 

This  vague,  dark  tumult  of  the  inner  sea 
Grows  calm,  grows  bright,  0 risen  Lord  ! in  thee. 

Thy  pierced  hand  guides  the  mysterious  wheels, 

Thy  thorn-crowned  brow  now  wears  the  crown  of  power, 
And  when  the  dark  enigma  presseth  sore, 

Thy  patient  voice  saith : “ Watch  with  me  or.e  hour.” 
As  sinks  the  moaning  river  in  the  sea, 

In  silent  peace,  so  sinks  my  soul  in  thee. 

80 


PRAYER  FOR  STRENGTH. 


Father  ! before  thy  footstool  kneeling, 

Once  more  my  heart  goes  up  to  thee 
For  aid,  for  strength  to  thee  appealing; 

Thou  who  alone  canst  succor  me. 

Hear  me,  for  heart  and  flesh  are  failing, 

My  spirit  yielding  in  the  strife  ; 

And  anguish,  wild  as  unavailing, 

Sweeps  in  a flood  across  my  life. 

Help  me  to  stem  the  tide  of  sorrow ; 

Help  me  to  bear  thy  chastening  rod ; 

Give  me  endurance;  let  me  borrow 
Strength  from  thy  promise,  0 my  God  ! 

Not  mine  the  grief  which  words  may  lighten ; 

Not  mine  the  tears  of  common  woe ; 

The  pang  with  which  my  heart-strings  tighten, 
Only  the  all-seeing  One  may  know. 

And  I am  weak  ; my  feeble  spirit 

Shrinks  from  life’s  task  in  wild  dismay  ; 

Yet  not  that  thou  that  task  wouldst  spare  it, 
My  Father,  do  I dare  to  pray. 

Into  my  soul  thy  might  infusing, 

Strengthening  my  spirit  by  thine  own, 

Help  me  — all  other  aid  refusing  — 

To  cling  to  thee  and  thee  alone. 

81 


PRAYER  FOR  STRENGTH. 


And  oh  ! in  my  exceeding  weakness, 

Make  thy  strength  perfect  — thou  art  strong  — 

Aid  me  to  do  thy  will  with  meekness, 

Thou,  to  whom  all  my  powers  belong. 

Saviour  ! our  human  form  once  wearing, 

Help,  by  the  memory  of  that  day, 

When,  painfully  thy  dark  cross  bearing, 

E’en  for  a time  thy  strength  gave  way. 

Beneath  a lighter  burden  sinking, 

Jesus,  I cast  myself  on  thee  ; 

Forgive,  forgive  this  useless  shrinking 
From  trials  that  I know  must  be. 

Oh ! let  me  feel  that  thou  art  near  me, 

Close  to  thy  side  I shall  not  fear ; 

Hear  me,  0 Strength  of  Israel ! hear  me ; 

Sustain  and  aid ! in  mercy,  hear  ? 

82 


ONWARD. 


Traveler,  faint  not  on  the  road, 
Droop  not  in  the  parching  sun  ; 
Onward,  onward  with  thy  load, 

Till  the  night  be  won  ; 

Swerve  not,  though  thy  bleeding  feet 
Fain  the  narrow  path  would  leave, 
From  the  burden  and  the  heat ; 
Thou  shalt  rest  at  eve. 

Midst  a world  that  round  thee  fades, 
Brightening  stars  and  twilight  life 
When  a sacred  calm  pervades 
All  that  now  is  strife  ; 

Rich  the  joy  to  be  revealed 
In  that  hour  from  labor  free, 
Bright  the  splendors  that  shall  yield 
Happiness  to  thee. 

Master  of  a holy  charm, 

Yet  be  patient  on  thy  way  ; 

Use  the  spell,  and  check  the  harm 
That  would  lead  astray  ; 

From  the  petty  cares  that  teem, 

Turn  thee,  with  prophetic  eye, 

To  the  glory  of  that  dream 
Which  shall  never  die. 

By  the  mystery  of  thy  trust ; 

By  the  grandeur  of  that  hour 
When  mortality  and  dust 
Clothed  eternal  power ; 

83 


ONWARD. 


By  the  purple  robe  of  shame, 

The  mockery  and  the  insulting  rod ; 
By  the  anguish  that  o’ercame 
The  incarnate  God  ! 

Faint  not ! fail  not ! be  thou  strong  ; 

Oast  away  distrust  and  fear, 

Though  the  weary  day  seems  long, 

Yet  the  night  is  near ; 

Friends  and  kindred  wait  beyond, 
They  who  passed  the  trial  pure ; 
Traveler,  by  that  holy  bond, 

Shrink  not  to  endure. 


GRIEF  WAS  SENT  THEE  FOR  TIIY  GOOD. 


Some  there  are  who  seem  exempted 
From  the  doom  incurred  by  all ; 

Are  they  not  more  sorely  tempted  ? 
Are  they  not  the  first  to  fall  ? 

As  a mother’s  firm  denial 

Checks  her  infant’s  wayward  mood, 

Wisdom  lurks  in  every  trial  — 

Grief  was  sent  thee  for  thy  good. 

In  the  scenes  of  former  pleasure, 
Present  anguish  hast  thou  felt ; 

O’er  thy  fond  heart’s  dearest  treasure 
As  a mourner  hast  thou  knelt ; 

In  thy  hour  of  deep  affliction, 

Let  no  impious  thoughts  intrude  ; 

Meekly  bow,  with  this  conviction, 
Grief  was  sent  thee  for  thy  good. 

84 


FOR  THE  NEW  YEAR. 


Another  year,  another  year 
Has  borne  its  record  to  the  skies ; 
Another  year,  another  year, 

Untried,  unproved  before  us  lies  ; 

We  hail  with  smiles  its  dawning  ray  — 
How  shall  we  meet  its  final  day  ? 

Another  year,  another  year  ! 

Its  squandered  hours  will  ne’er  return  ; 
Oh ! many  a heart  must  quail  with  fear, 
O’er  memory’s  blotted  page  to  turn. 

No  record  from  that  leaf  will  fade, 

Not  one  erasure  may  be  made. 

Another  year,  another  year ! 

How  many  a grief  has  marked  its  flight ! 
Some  whom  we  love  no  more  are  here  — 
Translated  to  the  realms  of  light. 

Ah  ! none  can  bless  the  coming  year 
Like  those  no  more  to  greet  us  here. 

Another  year,  another  year  ! 

Oh ! many  a blessing  too  was  given, 

Our  lives  to  deck,  our  hearts  to  cheer, 

And  antedate  the  joys  of  heaven  ; 

But  they  too  slumber  in  the  past, 

Where  joys  and  griefs  must  sink  at  last. 

85 


FOIl  THE  NEW  YEAR. 


Another  year,  another  year  ! 

Gaze  we  no  longer  on  the  past, 

Nor  let  us  shrink  with  faithless  fear 
From  the  dark  shade  the  future  casts. 
The  past,  the  future,  what  are  they 
To  those  whose  lives  may  end  to-day  ? 

Another  year,  another  year  ! 

Perchance  the  last  of  life  below ; 

Who,  ere  its  close,  death’s  call  may  hear, 
None  but  the  Lord  of  life  can  know. 
Oh  ! to  be  found  whene’er  that  day 
May  come,  prepared  to  pass  away. 

Another  year,  another  year  I 

Help  us  earth’s  thorny  path  to  tread ; 
So  may  each  moment  bring  us  near 
To  thee,  ere  yet  our  lives  are  fled. 
Saviour  ! we  yield  ourselves  to  thee, 

For  time  and  for  eternity. 

86 


